Memories of Iron
by becuzitswrong
Summary: Taylor Hebert always triggered because of the bullying of classmates and a former friend. Here, instead of triggering, a cosmic entity gifts her with the memories of a man as talented as he was tormented. One who accomplished amazing things in his life. Now Taylor has the opportunity to use that knowledge to save her world. First, she'll need to save her own sanity.
1. Chapter One—Recollections of Yesterday

**Memories of Iron**

**By becuzitwrong**

**Summary:** Taylor Hebert always triggered because of the bullying of classmates and a former friend. Here, instead of triggering, a cosmic entity gifts her with the memories of a man as talented as he was tormented. One who accomplished amazing things in his life. Now Taylor has the opportunity to use that knowledge to save her world.

**Disclaimer:** Marvel owns Iron Man and Wildbow owns Worm. I merely borrow them for fun.

**AN:** Ffnet doesn't really allow surprise crossovers so I will just go ahead and state that this is a cross between Worm and Iron Man. Meant as a one shot, I might continue it there's enough interest.

**Chapter One—Recollections of Yesterday**

Taylor stared at the stained mess that used to be her chemistry homework. Now it was just so much garbage, no teacher being willing to accept work that looked like it had been painted with several different kinds of juice and cola.

It was all part of the terrible trio's latest and thus far, most effective way of breaking one Taylor Hebert. Their regular bullying hadn't worked, even the theft of her mother's flute hadn't broken her. But this latest method was coming closer and closer. Ever since school had begun in the fall of her sophomore year, Emma, Sophia, and Madison had been determined to make Taylor fail and force her to repeat an entire year. It would, as Sophia had gloatingly told her, show that they had been right about her the entire time.

Now Taylor desperately blinked back tears as she realized she would be getting another zero, Mr Fleming being notoriously lacking in understanding for late work. She wouldn't finish the fall with a passing grade, and would need all spring to bring it back up. If they let her.

Taylor racked her brain for a solution, but couldn't see one. As long as the school demanded proof that she couldn't get, there was no way they would intervene in her situation or transfer her ahead of the the two hundred people on the waiting list to Arcadia High.

Well, there was still the Algebra test tomorrow to help raise her grade in that class. If she could scrape up a B while sitting in a wet or dirty seat, she would have a C minus, high enough to pass.

Riding the bus home Taylor chewed her nails as she consider her situation, and whether to tell her. But she didn't want to burden him. And he wouldn't be home for hours, which should give her enough time for her weakness to want to share her troubles to pass.

Her dad worked most days until at least six, in a futile attempt to hold the shrinking remnants of the Dockworker's Association together. Ever since the shipping into the bay had shrunk to close to a standstill over a decade ago, the men and women who worked the docks had been squeezed more and more. It was a situation that hadn't been helped by militant workers who had managed to sink cargo ships in the main channel, making Brockton Bay impassible to deep draft ships.

Taylor got off at her house, staring at the various attempts by their neighbors to decorate for Christmas. No one had gone overboard, then again, no one could afford to. With the economy the way it was, money was just too tight, a problem that Taylor and her dad shared, evidenced by the single strand of Christmas lights that would be blinking in solitude tonight.

Daniel Hebert's job didn't pay that well, a situation that saw more and more bills marked _Past Due_. However, he was doing the best that he could. Still, Taylor knew not to expect much for Christmas. She might get a few new clothes, but that was the extent of Santa's largess this year.

She settled in for some studying until her dad came home.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor felt hands yanking at her backpack and tried futilely to grab it even as she spun around to face her tormentor. Sophia Hess' mock smile met her frown.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

Madison Clements snarked, "She's like a bug. Can't get rid of her."

Then Taylor heard the dulcet tones of her former best friend, Emma Barnes, "More like a roach. Always trying to hide, aren't you, Taylor?"

Taylor spun back around, leaving her pack to its fate, to face her chiefest tormentor. At her mocking smile, she could feel her will falter and the words she imagined saying died on her tongue.

Emma made a face of mock concern. "What's wrong, Taylor? Raid getting to you?"

"I'm not a bug!" Taylor didn't know where that had come from, but the words seem to burst out of her. She was punished for her small show of defiance by a hard shove to her back as Emma danced out of the way of her falling body.

Landing painfully on her knees, Taylor tried to scramble to her feet, only to feel a foot shove her on her bottom. This time, she hit face first on her front, her nose striking the hard floor hard enough to make her eyes water. She turned over as quickly as she could to see Sophia standing over her. Taylor had known it would be her as she was the person who most quickly escalated to physical violence whenever they bullied her.

Sophia's eyes widened as Taylor felt hot liquid running down her chin. She cluelessly wiped at it, only to see her hand covered in crimson. Sophia had given her a nosebleed. And she only had five minutes before her Algebra test started. Taylor scrambled to her feet. She looked over at Madison, who was now holding her now open backpack. At least she wasn't carrying anything that could be dumped over her books and notebooks.

Dodging around Sophia, Taylor made to grab her backpack from Madison. When it appeared that she was going to try to hold on to it, a quick gesture with a bloody hand made her relinquish it with a mutter, "Ewww." Taylor quickly scuttled away, trying to reach the restroom to clean up.

Luckily, Taylor made it to class just as the last bell rang. She was given an odd look by her Algebra teacher, Mrs Reese, and wondered if she'd gotten all of the blood. The she dismissed the thought and focused on her test.

It turned out to be far easier than Taylor had imagined, and she finished her test early. Walking up to Mrs Reese's desk to turn it in, Taylor was surprised by the angry look she received. An even bigger surprise was the way Mrs Reese started in immediately grading her test. She never graded tests in class, too busy making sure people weren't cheating to have time.

Taylor sat back down at her desk, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn't understand what was going on. Why was Mrs Reese angry because she was doing well for a change? Taylor was far from stupid, after all, and her low grades resulted more from not turning in assignments than because she didn't understand the material.

She wasn't kept in the dark long. "Taylor, can you come up here and bring your backpack, please?"

It was the please that scared Taylor the worse. Teachers were only this polite when they were about to crush you. The rest of the time, they usually didn't bother. It seemed as if they used courtesy as a wall to stand behind while delivering bad news so as to distance themselves.

Wordlessly, she rose and walked to her teacher's desk. Mrs Reese gestured for Taylor to put her backpack on her desk. When she did so, the teacher began to search it. Taylor stood there in shock as her privacy was violated just like that. She could feel stomach acid trying to make its way up her esophagus to burn her throat and mouth. Somehow, Taylor kept it in.

Taylor kept it in even as Mrs Reese opened a purple folder that didn't look familiar to her. She kept it in even as the folder was opened and something was laid out on the desk in front of her. Something that looked suspiciously like the test she'd just taken.

Taylor kept it in until Mrs Reese said, "Well, this is a clear case of cheating. I'm sorry, Taylor, but I'm going to have to give you a zero for the test. You'll also need to see Principal Blackwell. This is going most likely going to result in a suspension. What you thinking, stealing the test, and cheating like this?"

That was when Taylor lost it and hot bile splattered all over the desk in front of her even as sounds of disgust and laughter peppered the air. All she could think as she vomited was that this was just another way for them to hurt her. And this time, they had finally succeeded. In spades.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Danny Hebert stared at his daughter as she explained what had happened that day. How she had been suspected of cheating. How a test with all of the answers had been found in her backpack. How it had likely been planted on her when her backpack was taken from her by bullies who were tormenting her. Only out of her sight for a minute, it was long enough to plant the test. A test that was enough to get his daughter suspended from class at a time when she would miss the rest of her midterms and fail the entire fall semester and likely the entire year.

Danny had known things were bad at school, but until now, Taylor had hid just how bad. To find out it was Emma Barnes, who used to be her best friend, leading the bullies made him sick. Danny wished Taylor had trusted him enough to tell him about what was going on before this. He'd never regretted the distance that had grown between the two of them more than he did now.

Not that it was too late. Danny would deal with this. He'd find a way to make things right. Even if he had to shout at every single adult at her school. And he would be there for Taylor. They would regain the closeness they'd once had.

A quiet voice broke his reverie. "Dad, what I am going to do?"

Danny stared down at his daughter's face. She was still at that awkward phase where she was thin enough to called skinny, her full growth not having come in. She was all long legs and elbows, knobby knees and bony shoulders. Her wide mouth and big eyes dominated a thin face that some people might foolishly call plain. Still, there was a quiet grace to her as she sat in the chair opposite him that made promises of tomorrow. Her mother, who had been beautiful when Danny had first met her, looked just the same as Taylor did in old pictures they had from when she was a teen.

And one day his daughter would be as well. She was lucky she had only inherited her future height and eye color from him. Daniel Hebert would never be called handsome, being a tall, stringbean of a fellow, but that had never mattered to him. He'd had too many other things going for him for so long. A career he could believe in. A beautiful wife and wonderful daughter that he adored.

Sadly, his career was starting to fail. Worse, his wife had been gone for almost two years, and his daughter was hurting and miserable. Staring into the too serious eyes of the person he loved the most in the world, Danny struggled to find words of reassurance. Finally, he found what he was looking for and said, "Don't worry, sweetheart. Tomorrow, I'm going down to your school and I'm going to fix things. I promise."

From the mournful look in her eyes, his daughter was particularly convinced. She sat there, arms wrapped around her body as if to keep herself from flying into pieces. Not once during the long explanations that had just taken place had Taylor cried even once. Nor had she smiled. Where had gone the young girl who would tear up when someone got hurt in a movie? Who laughed at the drop of a hat? What had she suffered that had toughened her up this much? In so many ways, his little girl had changed the last year and a half, and sometimes Danny didn't recognize the person she had become.

Danny moved forward and pulled Taylor into a hug. Her arms were awkward for a moment as if struggling to get loose, then they were wrapped around his waist. Taylor buried her face into his chest and held him tight. But she never shed a tear and to Daniel Hebert, that was the greatest injury his daughter had suffered.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor trudged up the steps towards her room. It had been bittersweet explaining things to her father. Bitter because of the sheer magnitude of the trouble she was in. Sweet because he believed her. Utterly and without equivocation, her dad believed that she was innocent of cheating.

It was the only positive thing that Taylor could draw from this situation. She had been hiding the abuse from her dad for so long that lying had become second nature. They had steadily been losing that closeness they used to have. It had began when her mom died two years ago, and had slowly gotten worse. Sometimes Taylor felt like they were becoming strangers.

Then something like this happened, and it was as if no time had passed. Her dad was there for her. He believed in her. And he was ready to take on all comers and defend her to the best of his ability. Of course, the only problem lay in that statement.

Taylor wasn't sure what her dad could do really. If she failed, she would get held back a grade. College would be more difficult, with no chance at an academic scholarship. Her life, while not ruined, would be made that much harder. And her former friend would be justified in every thing she'd ever said about Taylor being stupid and worthless.

Taylor laid her head down on her pillow and wished for better tomorrows. _Please, God, _she prayed,_ let my life get better. Give me the strength to fix things._

~~~Will of Iron~~~

It was a sincere prayer, and in the grand scheme of things, just one of millions made daily. But sometimes, prayers are heard. And if not by a benevolent God, then by indifferent beings who weren't much lower.

In a higher plane, a being of untold power turned three faces towards the group of realities that contained Taylor Hebert's world and boundless others. All three faces wore a frown at the terrible fate that would one day befall all the worlds of those realities because of the boundless hunger and greed of terrible beings that chance had unleashed.

Ordinarily, he would not interfere. Yes, Equity was necessary in this, as in all things. And a call had been made. If not to him, it still had been made and reverberated through all the realities. Plus, Vengeance could be sated by answering. Still, it was Necessity that ultimately made the decision. Some things needed saving and some threats had to be stopped. For the good of all existence.

Still, how to proceed? There were many solutions, but most broke the Accord. No person, world, or reality was worth risking the existence of all. Then he saw the solution, as he must.

A broken hero laying dying on a burning world. In another reality he had saved the world and been hailed the greatest hero of his age. In this one, he had failed, the forces arrayed against him had overwhelmed him and the world died in flames. Unable to come up with a solution in time, he would soon die, even as enlightenment came to him. It would just never be realized.

So he plucked the memories and intellect of this man, this failure, and encapsulated it into a ball of psychic energy and tossed it out into the cosmos, confident it would find its home. Soon, a fifteen year old girl would waken to nightmares of a burning world. She would discover skills and abilities that she had never imagined existing. She would battle endless demons, most of them within herself as her new memories fought a war for dominance.

However, she would have a chance, however small, to save her world and all of the others that were threatened with destruction. It wasn't a great chance, the probability of success being less than one in ten. But any chance, even this one, was better than none. And it would give her all of the things of which she'd always dreamed of.

In a cluster of realities far away, on an insignificant speck of a world, a young girl woke up screaming, her eyes traumatized by memories not her own. Memories of pain, blood, and death.


	2. Chapter Two—Remembrance of Identity

**Chapter Two—Remembrance of Identity**

**AN:** Okay, to anyone who has written a fic with someone experiencing another's memories, I have nothing but respect for you. Its damn hard. So here's another chapter. Let me know if this is believable or too over the top. Thanks.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor awoke for the second time to renewed pain as memories assaulted her. A city that dwarfed Brockton Bay lay in ruins around her, most of its citizens dead as a beng that stretched into the stratosphere slowly tore the planet apart while she lay dying, having failed the people she'd always protected.

Slowly, Taylor sat up, her thoughts jumbled. What the hell had happened last night? Had she triggered? If so, it was the oddest one that she had ever heard of. Regardless, somehow, someway, she had acquired the memories of a man named Tony Stark. An inventor. A billionaire. A playboy. And the wearer of a suit of armor that was beyond anything she'd ever dreamed possible.

Taylor remembered unibeams and repulsors, force fields and morphologic nanoparticles. Memories assaulted her from every side, making her head split. And she didn't know what to do. How to handle it all. What do you do when you remember everything about someone else's life?

If it was just the memories, Taylor might have tried to ignore them, toughing them out just as she had done a year and a half of bullying. But it was more. She _knew_ things. Like how to calculate pi to a hundred places. Or how cosmic inflation was self-sustaining through inflation of quantum-mechanical fluctuations.

Taylor didn't know she knew. Because her memories of Tony Stark indicated that he hadn't known. Or rather, he hadn't cared to do the calculations. But he could have figured it out fairly easily if he had wanted. And so could she now. Taylor's brain seemed on fire as she registered the world around her.

The world was brighter and harder and colder than it had ever been before. And Taylor _understood_. Why the sky was blue and the place that Raleigh scattering had in it. How zero point energy worked and how dangerous a reactor made to use it was. How a man could kill others and betray friends, if the cause he believed in was just.

Fifteen-year-olds weren't supposed to have this level of understanding. They didn't have the wisdom that life granted you over time. Of life and death. Of the world around them and how little they really mattered. Of how to talk a centerfold into bed in less than five minutes and how to make her...

Taylor bolted for the bathroom and vomited until nothing remained inside of her, not even stomach acid. It was horrifying to remember having sex with women! She hadn't even ever kissed a boy and she was remembering doing things that she wasn't sure should be possible from the contortions involved. She could remember smells of mingled sweat and other bodily fluids.

Taylor's gorge rose and she firmly pushed that thought aside. No, she needed to focus on something more concrete. Something visceral. Like an arc reactor. The thought of building something that could produce three gigajoules per second or the equivalent power of thirty barrels of oil a minute was fascinating. Taylor's fingers literally itched to put one together. To create something wonderful.

But first she needed palladium. Taylor could get that by robbing junkyards of catalytic converters. She would have to pound out the ceramic honeycombs and deal with impurities, but she could do it. It would only require a couple of simple chemical processes to purify the palladium, plus she would get other, equally useful metals...

Taylor reeled. What was she thinking? Why the hell did she want to make an arc reactor? The next thing you know she would want to build a set of armor and fly around fighting villains...

If she had reeled before, it was as nothing to how she felt now. Her mind was assaulted by hundreds, thousands, of memories of doing just that. The thought made her feel half excited and half terrified. It was like living and dying at the same time. It was utter madness and she wanted it so much that her chest hurt bad enough that that she felt like she was an inch from death's door.

But _who_ was the she that wanted it? The she that had memories of being Tony Stark, tinker extraordinaire, of living his life and battling his enemies? Or was it the she that was Taylor Hebert, bullied sophomore student, who was just trying to survive the rigors of high school from day to day, and maybe find some hope for tomorrow?

Taylor took deep breaths, then tried to slow them down as she hyper-ventilated. She breathed into her hands in lieu of a paper bag until some semblance of control returned. Taylor had so many questions, starting with: Who am I?

Unfortunately, Taylor couldn't answer a one of them. The world around her had stopped making sense the moment that this 'blending' had started. Or maybe it was better to say it had started making sense. Taylor understood too much now, and she knew there was no going back. She'd eaten the apple, involuntarily in her case, but there would be no return to paradise regardless. No more 'bliss.'

Taylor could see the terrifying world that she lived in, one that would only last another twenty-three years, plus or minus five percent, before civilization crumbled and the Endbringers hunted the vestiges of mankind in the wreckage. Roughly fifty-one years until mankind was for all intents and purposes extinct.

The vision that the numbers gave her was so intense that Taylor screamed at the top of her lungs. Screamed as if dying. She muffled her cries with her pillow as agony ripped through her mind. Taylor wanted to cry so badly, to somehow vent the intense feeling tearing her apart, but she couldn't. She had no tears left to her. They had been burned out of her by three people who had tried to break her. And Tony hadn't been able to find a tear in twenty years, even when attending the funeral of his best friend.

What she really needed was a drink, Taylor decided. A nice twenty-five year old scotch would really mellow her out right now. Maybe then she could make heads or tails of what was happening to-

Taylor stopped, hands slowly forming fists at her sides. She didn't drink. She never had. So why was she craving alcohol so badly it left a pit in her stomach a mile across? She could literally taste that smoorh, sensual burn as the scotch slowly warmed her from the inside out.

She had to get a hold of herself. Do something to distract herself. Okay, Taylor decided, I'll build the arc reactor. Hopefully, it will get me out of my head enough to get me through the day.

Glancing at the clock, Taylor saw that it was a little after nine am. She would need to be back by noon to talk to her dad and find out how his discussion with the school had gone. She didn't hold out much hope, but she had armed him with her notebook tallying every single instance of bullying and who was responsible. Maybe he could use it to some effect. Tony's memories whispered to her that someone like him would not be the most effective speaker. That she should have gone along to coach him. To...

Taylor shook off her doubts and crazier thoughts as she headed down to the basement to grab the tools she'd need. Her dad still had a fair supply from his years to working the docks, and she was able to find a pipe cutter and a hammer. That should do it. Now to hit the nearest junkyard.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor opened the back door to her house, completely exhausted, dragging a bag that was ridiculously heavy. It was completely full of ceramic blocks that contained the palladium, platinum, and rhodium of a couple of dozen catalytic converters.

All were metals Taylor needed to build things with, so she would be keeping them all for herself, once she chemically removed them from the ceramic honeycomb material. Oh, but she wished she had access to her company as being a billionaire had perks...

No. Taylor took a deep breath and carefully blanked her mind. She needed a quick shower before her dad got home. After stashing her goods in the basement along with her tools, Taylor got undressed.

Staring at her nude figure in the bathroom mirror, for the first time Taylor could see her future potential. Or rather Tony could. His memories showed her that it was likely she'd bloom in her late teens after she reached her full height. For now, she was the proverbial ugly duckling, small boobs, skinny legs, no butt, and a slight paunch. Taylor didn't see how those things could one day equal beauty, but Tony could.

Getting into the shower, Taylor made a decision. Tomorrow she would start exercising. The one thing that today had taught her was that she needed a level of fitness far greater than she currently possessed. Her memories only reinforced that idea, as she considered how badly a certain spoiled rich man had suffered at the hands of terrorists who wanted he... _his_ technology.

Cutting off the catalytic converters, then breaking up the ceramic insides with a hammer to get the metals out had been brutal on Taylor's physique. The hot shower soothed the aches and pains of her tired muscles as well as the dozens of bug bites she'd gotten. Getting her loot had been a dirty job. She'd even run into a fair number of spiders, although none of them poisonous. Taylor shivered as she thought of a particularly large hairy one.

If Taylor's calculations were correct, she'd need three more hauls like this one to get the palladium she needed, plus a little to spare. After that, there were certain chemicals that she'd need to remove and separate the metals. Fortunately, Tony knew of several processes that allowed separation of these metals from their ceramic bondage using 'cold' chemical catalysts. He had invented those processes, after all, in pursuit of building the best suit.

As Taylor dressed, she heard her dad come in. After a moment, she headed downstairs. She actually hoped she was expelled as she no longer really needed school, except as a cover. Taylor had so many ideas and plans for the future. She would rebuild her company, bigger and better than before. She would-

Taylor hit herself on the side of her head as hard as she could. I am Taylor Hebert, she chanted in her mind. Taylor Hebert! Not Tony Stark. Taylor! If I build a company, it will be as me! Fortunately, her mental cries went unheard as she stood there for a few minutes.

After a while, blinking hard, Taylor rubbed her aching head. Not going to do that again, she thought, wishing again for a drink. Then she heard her dad call her.

"Taylor! Can you come down here, please?"

Taylor called, "Coming, Dad!" She hated the artificial brightness she'd injected into her tone, but she needed to keep this quiet for now. But maybe not forever.

Taylor trotted down the stairs, wincing as abused muscles and an aching head protested. She saw her dad as she reached the bottom. "What's up?"

Danny Hebert wore a somewhat abashed expression as he looked at her. He began, "I've got some good news, and some bad news from my meeting with your Principal and teachers."

Taylor said decisively, "Give me the bad." After all, once she heard it, she could plan how to deal with it. What steps to take to minimize the damage going forward.

Her dad's face had a strange expression as he slowly nodded. "Ooookay. The bad news is that your suspension stands. You won't be going back until the second of January."

Taylor nodded. Almost a month's vacation was great. She could use the time to get a lot accomplished. "And the good?"

Her dad smiled in triumph. "Principal Blackwell and your teachers agreed to allow you to take all of your midterms when you get back. So on that day, you won't attend class, but instead spend the day in a room taking tests. They will also allow you to turn in any missed homework assignments at that time, but not allow you to redo any that you already turned in."

Taylor was surprised at the flash of rage she felt at the news. Those bitches were going to get away with it again, while she wasted time doing make work that a three-year-old could do! She was going to make them regret ever messing with her once she went back. She would-

A feeling like being immersed in icy water traveled down Taylor's spine. That wasn't her. She wasn't that angry and vindictive. Okay, maybe that angry, but she didn't want revenge. Did she? Her thoughts were interrupted by her dad speaking again.

"Taylor? You all right?"

Taylor forced a smile. She nodded briskly and said, "I'm fine. That's great news, Dad. Thanks so much for talking to them for me."

Her dad's answering smile was surprisingly tender. "That's what dad's are for. I've got one more thing. I got the school to change your schedule a little. It takes you out of every class you have with the three of them. This way, you don't have to worry about being in the same class as them."

Just their minions, she thought darkly. Still, her smile was more genuine as she said, "Thanks, Dad. You're the best."

Taylor went to hug him, and it was only after her dad's arms went around her that she registered how alien it felt. It was as if she didn't recognize her own father. Determinedly she thought, I'm Taylor Hebert, as a red and gold shadow lurked at the back of her mind. She leaned hard into her dad's hug.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

The next morning, Taylor was up at six. She headed out for a run, although after the first half mile, it turned into more of a shamble. But she forced herself to reach the park, a halfway point, as well as to do the katas afterwards. Those had been developed for Tony by Steve Rogers, who had also instilled the idea of physical fitness in he... in Tony. From her memories, he was an imposing figure, and she would be hard fought to pick out any current Protectorate member whose sheer presence impressed as much, although Eidolan came the closest.

Arms and legs limp as noodles, Taylor finished up the katas, then returned home at more of a walk than a run. Still, it was a good first effort. After a shower, which she refused to consider wasted time, Taylor headed back to the junk yard.

Entering cost her another twenty dollars as a scrounge fee, but it was well worth it. This time she wasn't just going for catalytic converters. Yesterday, she had spotted a pile of hundreds of old PC's that had been thrown out. Even if the chips inside were slow and underpowered, Taylor could easily daisy chain a few hundred to build a crude version of a super computer. It wouldn't be a tenth as good as the real thing, but that would need to wait for real manufacturing facilities.

Afterward, laden down with her treasure, Taylor took yet another shower. She then headed down and began the laborious process of breaking up the ceramic honeycombs into pieces small enough to more easily fit into the glass cookware she was planning to use for the chemical synthesis.

When Taylor was done, she had at least sixty pounds of the off white material. Momentarily, she toyed with the idea of beginning the processing for metals now, but decided as she had already done once before, that it would be a waste of time until she had the entirety gathered.

No, Taylor would spend the rest of the day at the library, doing research on a variety of subjects from attorneys to patents. She was going to need a good attorney, preferably one with either an expertise in patent law or who was a member of a firm who did. With the number of ideas that Taylor had, patents were going to be the single most important thing she did from here on out.

Taylor had already figured out the single biggest difference between who or what she had become versus the usual triggered Tinker. Her ideas were mass producible, while a typical Tinker's were not. It was actually a crazy concept, but nevertheless, a true one. Every single one of her ideas could be produced in a factory and used and maintained by ordinary people.

Tony's memories assured her that _this_ was the norm rather than items that required constant specialized maintenance and upkeep. It was _those_ items that were the aberration. It was almost more than Taylor could tolerate, having her understanding of the world turned on it's head. But it was true. She could remember building such things, an example of which was the mandroids, powered armor possibly more complex than anything that existed on this world, and they had been operated and maintained by a group of army grunts. Well trained army grunts, but still...

Taylor tore her eyes away from the section of text on Quinn Calle, an evil attorney specializing in supervillain defense law, and rubbed her eyes. It was still happening. Her every thought seemed to be full of Tony Stark's thoughts, memories, likes, and prejudices. It was terrifying how much he was influencing her. She had eaten a lunch today of tuna, mustard, and onion sandwiches, something which she couldn't imagine liking. But she did. Or at least she remembered liking them, and the fact that she still liked them could mean that she wasn't Taylor anymore, but instead, a pale shadow of Stark.

Worse, when Taylor had entered the public library earlier, she'd exchanged her usual smile with the young librarian on door duty. Except this time she'd noticed how cute the twentysomething was and wondered how hard it would be to get her number. Taylor had nearly hurled her oddball lunch as the thought registered.

I am Taylor Hebert, she thought grimly. Stop telling me we can't trust an attorney just because he represents villains as well. Stop making me see women as attractive. I like boys, she thought again. But how did she know? Would she have to experiment to see which she preferred now? Could she even know if she was or wasn't being influenced one way or another?

Attorneys. Patents. Focus, Taylor told herself. If we're going to save the world, we need to stop sweating the small stuff, she thought, then broke out in a cold sweat as she second guessed her thinking.

Taylor wrestled with her thoughts for a few minutes, her mind nowhere near the text on the screen in front of her. Finally, she whispered, "I'm Taylor Hebert. And I won't go down without a fight."

~~~Memories of Iron~~~


	3. Chapter Three—Recollections of Shadows

**Chapter Three—Recollections of Shadows**

Taylor finished her palladium gathering two days later. She'd taken her entire savings out of her account, all $249.25 of it and used about half of it to purchase the chemicals she needed. Now all of the ceramics pieces were thoroughly crushed and sitting in the various glass bowls Taylor had scavenged from the kitchen, plus a few she'd had to purchase, submersed in a special chemical soup. While it did the work over the next day and a half, Taylor went to work creating a circuit board that would handle most of the large number of processors she'd scavenged.

The good news was that the processors, while a little bit older, were actually respectably fast. Partially Tinker-tech, they were a copy of a design from a Tinker who specialized in adapting other Tinker's work to the public realm. Apparently, only some items were capable of being used that way, and even then they lost a lot of their effectiveness. But when they did work...

So Taylor had ended up with a hundred and twenty-five individual processors about equal to what Stark Tech had been building for the public about fifteen or so years ago. Not bad at all. Now, it was only a matter of time until she got the beginnings of an AI up and running. At least to the point it would write its own software so that she didn't have to. JARVIS would live again.

Taylor took a step back and rubbed her forehead, absently tapping the marker in her other hand on the table. She really needed to rethink that name. Anything that heightened Tony Stark's memories in her head needed consideration. Maybe by naming the AI something different, she could separate herself from the other.

Taylor had had nightmares every single night since 'it' happened. And they were getting worse. Intellectually, she understood this was likely caused by her mind slowly integrating her new memories into her core consciousness, a concept she'd gotten from those same memories. But the reality was vastly more disturbing as visions of death and destruction of people she'd respected and cared about danced through her dreams, turning them dark and hideous. Or rather that Tony had cared about.

Taylor knew her dad was worried about her. He'd come into her room again last night and woken her up from a bad dream. This one was of being tortured by terrorists, something for which she was grateful. But he'd told her this morning that when he got home, they were going to talk. It wasn't something to which she was looking forward to.

It wasn't that Taylor hadn't considered telling her dad about what had happened. She had. But she knew that he would push her towards joining the Wards as a safety measure. That wasn't a straitjacket that Taylor was prepared to put on now or anytime in the future. For every resource available to Protectorate and Ward Tinkers, there were ten times as many rules.

Taylor knew that to get the most out of her knowledge, she needed to stay 'free range.' So for the foreseeable future, her dad couldn't know what had happened to her.

Taylor stopped, staring down at the poster board on the work bench in front of her. While she'd been deep in thought, her hand had kept on sketching the layout for the array she was building. And wasn't that creepy in a demon-possessed kind of way?

Taylor shook off her disturbing thoughts. Now that she had a layout, she just had to begin building the actual nodes using the high temp soldering gun she'd scavenged from the second hand electronics store over on Eastmont Avenue. She was finding quite a few items that were used or didn't work and was able to buy them cheaply. The broken ones were usually easily fixed, although she did resent the time it took.

If Taylor worked hard, she should have enough hardware in place by the weekend to start in on writing the software, using the best of the old desktops she'd found. Once she had the prerequisite number of lines of code written, the AI would write about ninety-five percent of the rest of it itself. Certain parts Taylor would still have to write, especially those protocols dealing with the AI's limits. After all she wouldn't want another Ultron on her conscience...

Taylor shuddered. There was too much information dancing around in her head. So many memories that, for just a moment, she didn't know who she was. Silently repeating her mantra of self, Taylor thought about breaking off and calling it a day. Then she looked at how much she still had left to do, and stoically got back to work, hips moving to an unheard rhythm.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Danny walked in the door and tossed his keys into the dish on the side table. He almost called out to his daughter, but decided to surprise her instead. Plus, he wanted to make sure that she was actually studying for that round of tests she had coming up in just over three weeks.

If he was being honest with himself, Danny was feeling bothered by something. Ever since the day after Taylor had come home after being suspended, there had been something different about her. She was possessed of an almost manic energy that didn't seem to allow her to sit still for any appreciable amount of time. Even when they were sitting together watching a movie, she'd be swinging her foot or tapping her fingers. She'd been energetic, once upon a time, but that had faded to a silence and stillness that had been present ever since her mother had died. Now she was anything but.

And it wasn't just that. Taylor's attitude when he'd come home at lunch a few days ago to give her the news about his meeting with the school administration had been... odd. Her matter-of-fact request for the bad news first had surprised him. She'd just been so calm when her whole future was on the line. Worse, she hadn't reacted when she'd learned that she was still suspended beyond a flash of... rage?

Taylor also hadn't reacted when Danny had given her the good news either, other than a diffident smile that had been about as genuine as a three dollar bill. Maybe she's just growing up, he thought regretfully as he considered how hard things had been for her ever since her mom had died, something only made worse by her school situation.

However, that didn't explain the nightmares. Danny had heard Taylor having nightmares three times now, which was almost every night since the suspension. She hadn't explained anything to him when he'd awakened her, leaving Danny to picture far worse abuse than anything she'd admitted to. That it was only now coming out after all of this time might be because there was finally a solution, or alternatively, might be because she was suffering from some deeper trauma.

Danny hoped to get to the bottom of it tonight as the two of them were going to sit down and talk until he was convinced that Taylor was okay.

He walked into the den, to find Taylor hard at work, books and papers scattered all over his former desk, now on loan to her for studying. "Taylor, how's your day been?"

She jumped and gave him a hug. Making a sweeping gesture towards the desk, she said, "Boring as hel... err... heck. But I'll make great scores on those tests."

Hugging her back, Danny couldn't suppress the proud smile that creased his face. Stepping back, he carefully brushed her hair back from her face, regretting that she had grown too old to ruffle. "I don't doubt it a bit. Still, remember what I told you. They're going to be-"

"Harder than the original tests with all original questions. I don't know why they think that anyone would give me the answers to the tests. It's not like I have any friends." Taylor tone was more matter-of-fact than bitter, but it still bothered Danny.

Suppressing a frown, he suggested, "Why don't you take a break from studying tomorrow? I can spare a some money for you to do a little shopping on the Boardwalk. Maybe you can even find a friend. Someone you have something in common with. What do you think?"

Taylor shook her head. "Dad, you know we can't afford that. We don't even really have money for Christmas."

Danny was acutely aware of just how tight money was. But he had been taking a homemade lunch for the past month, instead of using the money budgeted for a hot lunch and had saved nearly two hundred dollars towards Christmas. He could spare half of that. "Taylor, let me worry about money. I'm going to give you a hundred dollars. I want you to spend it all. I'm not asking for receipts, but please? Do it for me?"

Taylor looked indecisive, but finally nodded. "Okay, Dad. But I'm only doing this under protest."

Danny gave her another hug. "That's my girl. Now how about we talk about those nightmares?"

Taylor shrugged. "If you want. But I am okay."

Danny tugged her towards the couch. Sitting down with her, he said, "I know what you're saying, Taylor, but I also know what I've seen and heard. Last night, you were screaming in utter terror. When I came in, you were drenched in sweat. That doesn't sound like you're okay to me."

His daughter looked him straight in the eyes. Her own were as typically serious as always. "Dad, I don't know what to say. I'm not going to lie and say I don't have nightmares. I do. Lots of them with monsters all wearing the faces of Sophia, Emma, and Madison. I don't like them. I pretty much loath having them. But I'm not so scarred that I need therapy from it either. I'm as okay as I can be. Every day that goes by, I'm a little more okay. Give me until the end of Christmas vacation. If I'm still having nightmares, I'll go see a counselor or something."

It was more than Danny had expected, but less than he wanted. Smoothing the hair back from her face, he said, "You're a tough negotiator, kiddo."

Taylor only gave the briefest of smiles as she said, "Just like my dad."

"Okay, you've got a deal. But if you are still having those nightmares, you will see someone."

Taylor solemnly held up her right hand. "I promise."

Danny felt around his pocket a moment before fishing out a slim canister and handing it to his daughter. She gave the can of pepper spray a bemused look. "I know you like doing your run early in the morning. I get that it helps. But I want you to be safe. I want you to keep this on you when you go running. Actually, I want you to have this on you this at all times when you go out. Taylor, I can't protect you when I'm not there so please carry this."

Taylor gave him a firm nod. "Okay, Dad. I'll carry it." She read the label on the canister a moment, then looked back at him. She softly accused, "Worrywart."

Danny nodded back. "Dad's prerogative. Okay, then, what's for dinner?"

Taylor mock frowned. "Why am I the one having to cook? Aren't you the parent?"

Danny mock scolded back. "I'm not the one lazing around at home all day."

Danny felt a sensation of relief at how well all of that had gone, although Taylor was almost too sensible. At least she joined in the teasing, a good thing for his too serious daughter to do. He headed into the kitchen to start dinner, only to discover a meatloaf cooling on top of the oven. He turned to find his daughter leaning against the kitchen door frame. Her face sported the first real smile he'd seen from her since he'd gotten home. "Great job, kiddo. I'll set the table."

The meatloaf turned out pretty good, in part because it had a lot more pepper than usual in it. Danny didn't think his daughter liked pepper that much, but it seemed she had inherited his taste for the spice after all. Otherwise, it was just another boring night at the Hebert residence.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

The next morning, Taylor did what was slowly becoming her usual run and workout. It wasn't getting any easier, but she knew from her memories that it would after a couple of weeks. For now it was still torture.

Finishing her shower, Taylor got dressed in jeans, a colorful blouse, and her nicest jacket. She didn't want to look flashy, but at the same time, Tony's memories were telling her that you dressed for the part you were playing. And today, she was playing the part of someone who had time to kill and was just having a little fun in the meantime.

When she became wealthy again, she was going to replace her entire wardrobe, Taylor decided. She would buy some nice Armani suits and...

Taylor took a deep breath. I am a girl, she told herself. I am Taylor Hebert. I don't wear suits. Armani or otherwise. Slowly breathing out, Taylor forced the memories to the back of her mind, where they sat there like a spider in a web. Slowly she relaxed, even as she contemplated those damn memories. While they were mostly useful, they could also be stifling. Maybe around the familiar environment of the Boardwalk, they would subside a little.

Riding the bus down to the Docks only took about thirty minutes. After that, it was a short walk to the Boardwalk where Taylor walked around, looking at anything that caught her fancy.

Not that Taylor planned to buy much. She only had the hundred dollars her dad gave her, plus what was left of her small savings that she had taken along just in case. So just over two hundred dollars total. Not enough to buy much here. She'd be better off at a Wal-mart. But Taylor promised her dad, so she would at least walk around and see what was there.

Taylor wandered around a bit, visiting various stores. The first thing that interested her was an eighteen karat gold charm in the shape of an infinity circle. However, Taylor didn't bother to ask the price as the store she was in was notoriously expensive. So she moved on.

At a Starbucks, Taylor picked up a hot chocolate. While the weather wasn't too cold, it was still a little chilly and she sipped the warm beverage appreciatively. With a sigh, Taylor thought, at least this is just me. Tony doesn't even like hot chocolate, seemingly subsisting on black coffee an scotch.

Slowly, Taylor allowed herself to relax. It was just a simple, relaxing day out on her own. Nothing was going to happen and she wouldn't need Tony Stark's memories until later when she got back to work. Of course, all of that turned out to be storybook lie.

It started innocently enough. It was after she'd wandered in and out of the fifth store that Taylor noticed the man. Tall and broad-shouldered, he was attractive in a thuggish way. He reminded Tony... her of someone she'd known in the past. Taylor brooded for a second before deciding that this time it probably was Tony and not her that recognized him. Or maybe Tony just recognized his behavior. The man was following someone.

Taylor could see him intently watching someone just out of her view. Edging around so as to be able to see past him, Taylor caught her first glimpse of the man's target. A blonde girl, close to her own age, who was standing at an outdoor booth, checking out designer purses that were on sale.

The girl was fairly attractive, but her face was a bit too thin and vulpine for her taste. Taylor gave a mental sigh. She'd meant Tony's taste. Not her own. Boys. Not girls. Boys.

Taylor continued to watch, and after a moment, saw the man's partner. She watched the way they moved, casual, but keeping their target in sight. They were good, but nothing compared to SHIELD operatives. Mercenaries, perhaps? The one thing Tony was fairly sure they were not, were cops.

All of the steps to figure out who and what they were and weren't seemed to float around in Taylor's head and for a moment, she felt dizzy. She was able to shake it off and slowly followed behind the curious trio.

Taylor wasn't sure why she was following them. It wasn't any of her business whatever was going on. She could almost hear Tony's voice whispering in her ear that they needed to be careful. That whatever was happening, the girl had likely brought it down upon herself.

It was weird how he both believed and didn't believe, Tony's memories being so dichotic on the subject. He'd saved people who didn't deserve it and failed others who did. He had so many regrets both ways. Still, he would probably have intervened just because she was a girl.

But Taylor wasn't going to get involved, was she? Both men were twice her size and weight, easily capable of incapacitating her. It would be the height of foolishness to get involved. Maybe she should call the cops and have them take care of it. And tell them what, Tony seemed to whisper in her ear. What could Taylor say? That she saw someone watching a pretty girl and they were up to no good? Somehow, she didn't think that would earn her any credibility with the police.

All of a sudden, Taylor felt a wave of shame wash over her. How many times had she cursed her classmates for standing by while she had been bullied and tormented? How many times had she wished that someone, anyone, would help her instead of tacitly accepting her abuse as something that was okay?

How was she any different from her classmates? Taylor gritted her teeth as the swirl of emotion poured over her, equal parts anger and shame. No, she thought. She could not stand by while something potentially terrible happened to the girl ahead of her. She would not be able to live with herself.

But what could she do? Taylor briefly considered her options and decided on the action that had worked for Tony Stark so well in the past. Not allowing herself to think further, she walked right past the two men to where the blonde was now checking the tags on sweaters.

Not hesitating a second, Taylor drew the other girl into a big hug, exclaiming, "Trish! I can't believe it's you! It's so good to see you. I can't wait to tell my parents who I ran into out on the Boardwalk today. They won't believe me! How have you _been?_"

The other girl, 'Trish,' only stiffened a second before hugging Taylor back just as hard. "Sandra! It is you! I thought I saw someone familiar earlier, but I told myself I must have been mistaken. Now you're here!"

The blonde's eyes intently studied Taylor's face even as she spoke, obviously trying to figure out why she was being hugged by a stranger who was pretending to know here. Then her eyes must have caught a glimpse of the two bookends over Taylor's shoulder, as she paled and started to step back.

Taylor didn't give her time to move before grabbing her hand. "We just have to sit down and chat. Let me buy you a cup of coffee. Do you still like those white chocolate mochas? They were always your favorite."

Without giving 'Trish' a chance to agree, Taylor pulled her off in a tangent to the men behind them, heading more or less in the direction of Starbucks. However, they didn't get ten steps before the second man cut them off, silently stepping in front of them.

Taylor took exactly one second to think before yelling, "How dare you grab my ass! You bastard! Rape! Help! Rape! Someone help! Get away from us, you pedophile!"

The man, who had been about to take a step closer to the two girls, visibly flinched at Taylor's shouts. She continued on, "Help! Rape! Rape!" Taylor capped it off with a shrill whistle, putting two fingers into her mouth and blowing hard. Where had _that_ come from?

For a second, Taylor didn't think the man was going to leave. His right hand was visibly reaching under his jacket towards what could only be a gun when he seemed to reconsider as people around them were starting to shout as well. It was probably the sight of a security officer heading their way at a fast clip that finally decided him. With one final glare at Taylor, he ducked back into the crowd and was gone.

It took only a minute to 'explain' things to the security officer, who was on his radio seconds later. Finally allowing herself to relax, Taylor realized that she was cold and sweating from a mixture of adrenaline and shock. She couldn't believe that she had done that. She, Taylor Hebert, had rescued someone! And it hadn't taken superpowers or any fancy gear, instead, just sheer chutzpah. The 'brash approach' Tony called it.

"You can let go of my hand, now." The drawl from the other girl, who up until now had been silently studying her, caused a slow creep of red across Taylor's face and she hastily released the aforementioned appendage.

Taylor stammered, "S-sorry about that. I guess I was too busy rescuing you to notice."

The other girl, who had been intently studying Taylor, seemed, if anything, to grow even more interested. There was sincerity in her tone when she said, "Thanks for that, by the way. I don't know if I would have gotten away from them."

Without thinking, Taylor snarked, "Especially since you didn't even see them until I hugged you."

The look of chagrin the other girl wore would have amused Taylor if she wasn't too busy trying to figure out why she had said that. It was far too mild a comment to be considered bullying, but it wasn't her. It was something that Tony Stark would say. Taylor forced herself to focus on her companion rather than her memories.

In a contemplative tone, 'Trish' asked, "Just how did you notice them, anyway? Not precognitive. Some kind of Thinker ability? No, not that either. You _are_ a mystery." This last bit was said in a tone of such surprise that Taylor stared at the girl, who was wincing now, as if nursing a sudden headache.

Taylor asked, "Do you know why those men were after you?" At the other girl's uncertain look, she nodded in understanding. "I see that you don't. Not for sure. But you have an idea."

"Look..."

"Taylor."

"Look, Taylor, I really can't get into that right now. I think I need to put some distance between me and them. So if you'll excuse me..."

Taylor had already figured out by the wear on the other's clothes and the general greasiness of her hair, that 'Trish' was probably homeless, more or less. Likely a runaway. "Do you have someplace to stay? And just what is your real name, anyway?"

The other girl's face expressed a confusion of emotions. "Just call me... Trish. And not exactly. But I'll find a place."

"You can stay with me."

Taylor couldn't have said which of the two of them were more shocked by her statement. After a few seconds went by without a yea or nay, Taylor expounded, "I live with my dad and we have plenty of room. You can stay in the guest room." And take a shower, she thought.

"What would your dad say, you bringing a strange girl home with you?" Trish's tone was cautious as if she'd been disappointed by adults before.

Taylor shrugged. "He's a good guy. And he was just saying that I needed to make more friends. You coming?"

Trish still looked indecisive, so Taylor decided for her by grabbing her hand and leading her towards the bus stop. So this is how it feels to help someone, she thought. She wondered what Tony's memories would say about this...

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

**AN:** If anyone has suggestions for something that Tony!Taylor can build for her meeting with the lawyer she is trying to recruit, please let me know. I had considered putting up the arc reactor, as it would definitely be something that would impress anyone, but that would probably be overkill. Also, this is not going to be a Taylor/Lisa slash fic.


	4. Chapter Four—Reminiscent of the Past

**Chapter Four—Reminiscent of the Past**

Taylor walked in through the back door of house, Trish right behind her. She gestured towards the fridge. "If you're hungry, there's lunch meat for making sandwiches. Plus lettuce and stuff."

Trish shrugged. "Not really." For just a moment, her expression grew a little more vulpine as she stared around Taylor's kitchen.

Taylor suggested, "How about a shower, then?"

Trish shot her an amused glance. "Is that your polite way of saying I need one?"

Taylor couldn't help the words that spilled out of her mouth. "Pretty much, yeah."

"Show me the bathroom, then." Trish looked even more amused as she grandly gestured for Taylor to lead the way.

At least she didn't seem offended as Taylor tried to figure out why she'd said what she did. That kind of blunt honesty hadn't ever been her thing and was even less so after the last couple years.

Setting the girl up with clean clothes and a towel, Taylor went back downstairs and started up her computer. She could at least do some encoding today. If there was an opportunity to slip away, she'd head downstairs to the basement and check on her little chemistry experiment. If not, she would do her best to get a few thousand lines of code written. At least it was so easy that she could [practically do it in her sleep.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

'Trish' stared at herself in the mirror after her shower. At least she was clean now, although there was a deeper feeling of filth, as if her soul were stained. The most recent scenes with her parents had been abhorrent, and she wished that she'd never gotten this power. Or if she had to have it, she could have gotten it before her brother died and finished the demolition of her family.

Not that any of them had ever been close. Maybe it was the wealth, as money had never been in short supply. Maybe it was something else. Something lacking in her parents that they'd passed on to Trish and her brother. In the end, it didn't matter.

Her brother's suicide followed by her admission that she'd wondered if something was wrong had finally splintered her family. Her parents accusations, as if somehow she was responsible for what he had done, had hardened her towards them. The stress at the time had triggered her, giving her a Thinker power that always sought for answers, even when there were no questions.

And Trish had found her answers, running away when her father tried to use her and her talent for the family's gain. Now she had no family left.

Trish had taken money with her before leaving. Probably too much money if she were honest. But the police had apparently never been called, whether because of a fear of the publicity it would bring or a fear of her, she didn't know. Likely, it was a little of both. Trish was careful not to think too deeply on the matter as she was still nursing a headache because of the earlier situation.

Having a stranger come up out of the blue and hug her, while acting familiar, had immediately raised flags with Trish, sending her ability into overdrive. She had immediately seen that it was an external factor driving the other and had found it in the two figures behind her. Trish had been trying to figure out a path to follow, when the other girl had acted without hesitation, pulling her away with her, like a leaf on the wind.

Confronted by one of the two men, Trish had known that he wouldn't hesitate at violence. Even against a couple of teenage girls. All the subtle indicators were there in his expression and stance. One glance at the man's face and Trish's ability told her that her only choice was to try to run, hoping he would hesitate to shoot her with so many witnesses present.

Again, Taylor had surprised her by acting so unexpectedly, her cries of rape drawing so much attention to them that the man had hesitated. Trish had seen the moment he decided he'd lost and departed. It spoke of training and discipline. Which spoke of an organization existing in Brockton Bay which wasn't one of the established ones.

Trish closed her eyes, trying to stop thinking about it for now. Although it wasn't whoever that was behind the kidnapping that had given her this headache. Rather it was the person who had rescued her. Taylor Hebert.

The girl was simply too different. Her actions were too strange. They would not lend themselves to parsing and trying to do so gave Trish a migraine. On the surface, she was a fifteen-year-old girl. Obviously shy, likely bullied at some point, Taylor was an introvert, damaged and reticent. She was also exactly opposite of the person who had rescued her.

Trish's rescuer had been skilled, decisive, and brash. Flourishing in deception. Confident to the point of recklessness, that person hadn't hesitated at any point. That person had trusted their own judgment enough to intervene in a situation where they shouldn't have. A situation they shouldn't have even noticed. Trish, herself, hadn't noticed the developing situation, even with her power. Nor had the Boardwalk guards.

Instead, that ostensibly fifteen-year-old girl had. And her reactions after had been that same curious blend of shy and quiet, and brash and confident. Even her body language had alternated between the two.

Was Taylor a Parahuman? Or mentally ill? The first was possible, but the second was highly unlikely. Some kind of Thinker ability? Maybe so. It could be interfering with Trish's own, as she didn't seem to be able to fill in the holes.

Trish hadn't forgotten the reaction to her quick analysis or the other girl's response, which had been just as accurate, if less complete. That spoke of a something of the nature of a Thinker. Her headache redoubled and Trish deliberately shut off her power. She was slowly getting better at doing that, though if she didn't focus, it would automatically activate whenever a question comes up. Which sucked, as Trish didn't need the migraines. Besides, using her ability didn't seem to be helping in this case.

No, Trish was learning as much or more about Taylor from observing her and using her own native intelligence to consider the mystery of the girl as she was using her power. In a lot of ways, that was truly frightening as she had quickly come to depend upon it to keep her safe.

On the other hand, Taylor did not appear to be any kind of threat to her. The sincere surprise in Taylor's eyes when she'd invited Trish home mixed with her naive honesty was enough reassurance of that. She projected a kind of innate decency that Trish wasn't used to seeing. It spoke of a nurturing home environment, which likely meant her father wasn't a threat either. Nobody who could raise someone like Taylor would be a danger to Trish, at least in the physical sense. Whether he'd want someone like herself around his innocent daughter was a different matter. Well, if necessary, she could play a part.

Trish finished dressing and headed downstairs. A quick search proved that Taylor was in the den, which was a home office for all intents and purposes, although it did have a couch and TV. Walking in, Trish noted the figure furiously typing on a keyboard. She raised her eyebrows at the rate of keystrokes as it had to be well over a hundred and fifty a minute. She carefully avoided thinking about the exact answer as it was unimportant.

Trish cleared her throat after a moment when she realized the other girl was in a world of her own. A startled face looked up, then the other girl stopped typing. "Feeling cleaner? The clothes fit okay?"

Trish nodded a yes, although in truth they were a little long and just a bit tight, the other girl being pretty much a string bean. But they would do for now. She responded. "Thanks for that, by the way. It's good to feel clean."

"Yeah, I know the feeling. Hungry yet? If you want, you can sit on the couch over there and watch TV."

"The couch sounds good. I might even take a nap." There, that sounded innocent enough. Besides, she was exhausted, moving around too much recently to get any real rest.

Taylor went back to typing as Trish lay down. She listened to the keys rapidly clicking away. Her eyes felt heavy, and while she wanted to have answers to her questions, the looming migraine coupled with her lack of sleep, robbed her of an opportunity to gain them. Still troubled, Trish fell into a deep slumber.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Once the other girl was out, Taylor finished the block of code she was typing out, then headed downstairs. Observing the containers, she noted that all of the metals had separated from the ceramic blocks and gone into solution. Carefully, Taylor poured off the chemicals containing the metals she needed, until she had it all.

Now it was just a matter of getting the metals to precipitate out of the solution, which took another hour as she had to do them one at a time. In the end, Taylor was left with a surprisingly large amount of each metal. Then again, Tony had based his calculations on the amount used in cars on his world, which apparently wasn't quite the same on this one.

Weighing out the metals using the secondhand scale she'd bought and refurbished, Taylor found out that she now had just over three ounces of platinum, one ounce of rhodium, and an ounce and a three quarters of palladium. It was more than ample for her needs. The palladium alone would make three arc reactors.

Taylor busied herself with all of the other details of the reactor, from the windings for the electromagnetic coils to the frame of the torus itself. Having built several of these now, it really was simple to do one more. The hardest thing was going to be melting the palladium into a ring as the heat needed exceeded most noncommercial methods. But Tony had an idea there that Taylor would implement later.

At this rate, the reactor would be done no later than Monday. Which was plenty of time for her to set up a power grid for the house.

It was important to take her home off the commercial power grid for a number of reasons. First, it would save the Heberts money, though it would eventually raise questions with her father. Taylor would deal with those questions at whatever future time they occurred.

Second, with the amount of power her homemade super computer was going to be using, it would be an instant red flag to the authorities that something was going on here. Based upon Tony's memories, Taylor had done a search on how the PRT tracked supervillains. Excessive use of power had been one of them and especially effective in catching nascent Tinkers.

While Taylor wasn't exactly a Tinker, she was close enough for them to consider her one. The last thing she wanted was the PRT or the Protectorate sticking its nose into her business. Therefore not using the commercial power grid.

Third, it would allow her to begin to build her first suit. Only begin, though. Taylor would need a dedicated space several times the size of the basement for the full manufacturing process. Not that most of the machines were all that large, but there were so many of them, several of which were complex enough to require JARVIS to constantly monitor them. Unless she wanted to go with something like her first suit, but that was a little too primitive for her now.

When it was all added up, Taylor could see the power bills heading into the stratosphere.

When Taylor was done cleaning up, having carefully stored the remaining chemicals in gallon glass containers, she headed back upstairs. Glancing at the clock in the kitchen as she walked by, Taylor was shocked to see that it was almost four in the afternoon. That meant she'd been downstairs for over five hours.

Hurriedly, Taylor headed in the den to check on her guest, only to find her still asleep, the faintest line of drool extending from her half open mouth. She studied Trish's face as she heard faint snores. Even in slumber, it looked slightly tense, as if the weight of the world were on her. Taylor could feel both a sense of empathy for her and a sense danger from her, the latter likely coming from Tony.

The girl was definitely a puzzle. Someone wanted her. Someone who probably wouldn't stop looking. They would need to lie low for awhile. As long as there were no sightings, not even SHIELD could find someone. Of course, SHIELD didn't employ the same kind of Thinkers and Precogs that existed here, so she would still need to be watchful. Until her armor was done. Then they could watch out for her. If anyone tried to hurt her or the people she cared about, Taylor would rain down fire upon them until they existed in the heart of hell, their bones roasting as they burned ali-

Taylor's nails dug into her palm hard enough to draw blood, only their shortness preventing the skin breaking. Taking slow, deep breaths, she forced her thoughts away from their previous path. I'm Taylor Hebert, I don't hurt people, she silently repeated, over and over again. After a few minutes of the silent mantra, it seemed to work well enough. Her dark thoughts receded and her heart was no longer pounding a mile a minute.

Sitting down in her chair, Taylor laid her weary head down on the keyboard and considered what had just happened. In its own way, her mental break had been more frightening than intervening in the attempted kidnapping this morning. For just a moment, Taylor had felt herself slipping away, an alien personality taking her place. One that was full of rage and guilt. One that would hesitate at nothing to prevent an occurrence like the one that had killed him and the people he cared about from happening again.

Wordlessly, Taylor stared off into space. Maybe the attempted kidnapping was a trigger for her flashback. If so, she could manage by avoiding stressful events for a while. If not, there wasn't much she could do except to stand strong and try her best. Timidity and passivity wouldn't serve her here. Taylor would need to be ready to fight tooth and nail for her innate sense of self if anything like this happened again. Either act was going to change her, but at least one change be of her own volition.

Sighing, Taylor went back to work, mindlessly tapping out code. She'd stop at 5:30 and start dinner. By then, Trish should be awake and could help distract her. Just thinking about the girl was a distraction, so long as Taylor didn't think about how they'd met.

So Taylor sat, slowly relaxing as she typed away, all the time pondering her unexpected guest. She came to no real conclusions and would reserve judgment until she learned more. But she would learn more, eventually. Taylor could not allow a danger to her and her dad to exist. If Trish turned to be one, she'd deal with her. Until then, she would help her as best she could.

With that decision made, some fundamental part of Taylor relaxed. She was still herself. If not wearing her heart on her sleeve as she'd done when younger, Taylor was, at least, still a good person willing to help others. And she couldn't really ask any more of herself than that.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Danny quietly let himself in, tossing his keys in the bowl by the door. He was running late and needed to let Taylor know he was home. Still, he hesitated a moment, thinking deeply. Standing there, Danny made a decision. Saturday, he was going to fix that damn step out front. For the longest time, it had been a symbol of his life and family, something broken that refused to heal. It had existed that way since his wife's death. But no longer. Just as his relationship with his daughter was slowly growing stronger, so too did the things that represented it. First the step, then anything else in the house that needed work. Likely those rain gutters needed cleaning ag-

Danny froze as he heard voices. He quickly moved towards the den, his eyes and ears open. The voices grew louder until he could hear them clearly as he stood in the doorway, stunned by what he saw.

Taylor and a blonde girl were sitting on the couch eating popcorn while watching a movie. _The Princess Bride_, Danny thought in amusement. Still, he was wondering who the other girl was. Looking at her, she appeared a little older than Taylor, maybe a year. And she was wearing Taylor's clothes.

A hundred scenarios rushed through his head, all of them the kind that would worry any parent. Then Danny shook his head ruefully. It wasn't as if his serious, sensible daughter would do anything too crazy. No, she just wasn't the type. Still, he was curious, and cleared his throat to get their attention.

Two sets of eyes turned his way, and Taylor paused the movie. She got up and crossed over to him, giving him a hug. "Hey, Dad. How was your day?"

Danny smiled and said, "Good. Got a few things taken care of with the Mayor's office. We should be seeing a few new jobs coming in soon."

Taylor smiled back at him, although with a pang, Danny noted it was another of those surface smiles. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you."

Danny glanced past her quizzically, wondering how long his daughter was going to wait before introducing him to her guest. He didn't have to wait long as Taylor took the hint.

She reached down and grabbed the other girl's arm, hauling her to her feet. "Dad, this is Trish. Trish, this is my dad, Daniel Hebert. Dad, Trish is going to be staying with us for a few days if that's okay. I already told her it was, but I wanted to ask you first."

Danny felt like a flounder, aware his mouth opened and closed at a couple of times. Then he got his composure back. "It's nice to meet you, Trish. Welcome to our home."

Trish smiled at him. "It's nice to meet you as well, Mr Hebert. Thanks for letting me stay here."

Danny smiled back, then said, "Taylor, can I talk to you alone for a minute?"

"Sure. I'll be back in a second to finish watching the movie, Trish. But you can unpause it if you want."

Trish shrugged, saying, "Okay." With that, she started the movie up again as Danny led his daughter back out of earshot to the kitchen.

He quietly asked, "What's going on, Taylor? Who is this girl?"

Taylor looked him in the eye as she explained, "I met her today on the Boardwalk. A couple of guys were hassling her. I helped run them off. Dad, she's homeless. She didn't have a place to stay, so I told her she could crash here for a bit."

Danny immediately felt a sense of alarm at hearing about his daughter getting into an altercation. "What guys? How did you get involved? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I didn't even have to use the pepper spray you gave me. I did have it with me, though. But, they really weren't that tough. Not when a few words from me got them to back off."

Danny examined his daughter minutely. She did look fine, standing there straight with her shoulders back. She looked... confident. It was a nice change to the girl who had been steadily growing more and more quiet and beat down. He switched tactics. "If Trish is a runaway, there's going to be people looking for her. Her family's probably worried sick about her."

Taylor looked troubled for a moment. "I don't think so, Dad. I think her home situation is pretty bad. From talking to her, I got the impression that she doesn't really trust adults. That's one of the reasons I invited her to stay here. I think she needs to have people around who she can depend on. People like you and me. A parent and a friend. To show her that there are good people out there. People that care about her."

Danny stood there, stunned by his daughter's words. A growing sense of pride warred with worry over his daughter's decision. In the end, pride won by a landslide. What Taylor was talking about doing was a truly wonderful thing. He was so proud of her that he could burst. Still, a niggle of commonsense had him saying, "Taylor, you know we don't really have the money to feed another person."

Taylor gave him a genuine smile, those being rare enough for Danny to treasure every single one of them. "Trish has some money. She can chip in on the groceries. And she's going to get a job."

Danny considered his daughter's words, then asked, "Shouldn't she be in school?"

Taylor shrugged. "She's already gotten her GED. She's pretty smart."

Danny leaned back against the stove, his arms hanging at his sides. "It sounds like you already have everything figured out. Is the guest room ready for her?"

"I already made up the bed with clean sheets and got her pillows and a blanket. Although I don't know how much she'll sleep tonight. She slept all day on the couch. I think it was the first time she's felt safe in a while."

Danny sighed. He could no more kick the girl out that he kick Taylor out. Still, he would keep an eye on her. And do his best to get to know her, maybe try a little parenting, careful not to be too overbearing. Maybe he could eventually get Trish to talk about her family. Find out exactly what had happened to make her leave.

"Okay, kiddo. Is there anything to eat, or do I need to slave over a hot stove?"

Taylor pulled open the oven, and took out a pan of some kind of noodle casserole. It smelled pretty good, and Danny could see chunks of both chicken and sausage in it. Loading up a plate, he took a big bite. It was incredibly good. He raised his eyes towards Taylor.

"Trish knew how to make it. Well, I made it, but she showed me how."

Danny wondered if the girl was as good a cook in other areas. If so, she wouldn't have trouble finding a job. Picking up his plate, he said, "Let's go finish the movie. Then I can get to know Trish a little. And she can get to know me."

Taylor gave him a quick hug, then led the way back to the den. As Danny followed, he reflected on his too mature daughter. In hindsight, he decided that Taylor wasn't too mature. No, his wonderful daughter was just mature enough.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~


	5. Chapter Five—Memories of Failure

**Chapter Five—Memories of Failure**

**AN:** I wanted to thank everyone for their great ideas for inventions for Tony!Taylor to sell with the help of an attorney. There were so many wonderful suggestions. You'll find out in future chapters what I decided upon. In this chapter, please let me know what you think about how events unfolded between Trish and Taylor. Is it too fast? Should I back off the big reveal and go back and rewrite the chapter? I had my reasons, but I want to make sure it feels right. Feels in character for them both.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

_Tony Stark flew as fast he possibly could, his armor surpassing Mach Four as he raced back to New York. South America had been but a feint, and the Celestial was actually landing in America's largest city, not Brazil's. He had to get there. To help stop the terrible being who was seeking nothing less than the extinction of the human race._

_No one, even Reed Richards, understood why mankind was being targeted now. There had been so many close calls, rough scrapes all, but they had somehow muddled through. But not this time, not against a Celestial. Beings that were just steps down from the greatest powers of the cosmos themselves, they would not be easily stopped. _

_There had been a warning. From somewhere beyond the Milky Way, out in the direction of Andromeda. That it was coming. !uhara~ was it's name. A rogue perhaps. Certainly this Celestial did not follow the others. Not that it mattered. The only thing that mattered was surviving against it._

_It was times like this that Tony cursed his caution. He had been to careful, too slow to push the boundaries with his armor. Tony had so many designs that only existed in his own head. Even his Mark V armor was basically a toy compared to the things he could build. Armor made from a blends of Adamantium and Neutronium, powered by zero point energy, armed with anti-proton weapons, isomagnetic disintegrators, and quantum disrupters. Weapons that could boil seas and shatter the very space time continuum. He could have built that suit, but he feared the arms race it would engender as it would single-handedly outclass every other weapon on Earth, even those used by villains like Dr Doom._

_Now Tony was left with arc reactor technology and repulsors to somehow stop a Celestial. He had an idea for a Reality Nullification Projector that should be able to destroy even a cosmic being, but how to power it? Maybe if he talked to Reed. He..._

_Tony's thoughts shut off as he still couldn't reach any of the other Avengers or the Fantastic Four. "JARVIS, where is that line? I'm not getting anyone."_

"_I'm sorry, sir, but there appears to be enormous amounts of electromagnetic interference in the Earth's upper atmosphere. It's playing havoc with all communications."_

_Tony was irate. "Bounce a whisker laser off an satellite, then, if you need to."_

"_Sir, there are no satellites left to bounce a signal off of."  
_

_Tony gritted his teeth, fresh alarm filling his mind. He forgot all about possible weapons and focused on trying to get another fractional increase in speed out of his armor._

Taylor sat up, breathing heavily. At least she wasn't screaming out loud, just in her head. Tony Stark's despair as he realized he was likely to lose had been terrible. His worry over his teammates and other had been stifling. But it had been his self-loathing that had hurt the worst. His belief that his own cowardice was the reason for everything terrible that had happened.

Tony lied to himself, even in her head. The real reason he hadn't built those terrible weapons had nothing to do with escalations, an arms race. Instead, it had everything to do with a man who could not manage his own vices. If he couldn't control those, how could he trust himself with what was virtually absolute power.

No one could build the things Tony Stark could. Even Reed Richards, for all of this genius and ideas, couldn't actually engineer and build the things that Tony could and did. It was almost as if his mind worked on a more impractical scaling than Tony's. But therein lay the problem.

Tony always figured out a way to build something. If he could comprehend it, he could build it. Just discussions with other geniuses gave him insprirations, glimpses into realities where he built amazing things.

Tony could leverage mankind into a Golden Age, a technological paradise where everyone was safe and given the best possible life. It could also do the opposite, leading to a wartorn world where nothing and no one was safe, death always just a breath away.

In just the short time she'd possessed these memories, Taylor had learned all this and more. She yearned for that Golden Age, to be able to care for people, keep them safe, and build better lives, not just for others, but for herself as well. But how could she trust herself to reach for it?

Like Tony, Taylor was damaged. The bullies at school, her mom's death, the betrayal of her best friend. Each had left it's mark with her, making her a little less open, a little less trusting, and a lot less capable of hope.

Reaching for that golden spire, it wasn't falling short that frightened Taylor. No, falling short only meant things weren't quite as good as they could be, but were still improved over how they were today.

No, it wasn't falling short. Instead, it was falling completely off the precipice and plunging so deeply into the pit that the other world was the inevitable result. A world of death and destructions, weapons wielded that were so terrible no one could survive them. Where even beings like the Endbringers and the Slaughterhouse Nine would just be more wheat to reap.

Taylor sat up in bed, hugging her knees. It was at times like these that she wondered if she was a good person. How do you know one way or the other?

She'd helped Trish, saved her from an unknown fate, one that was likely less than stellar for the blonde girl. The aid had been motivated more by guilt than any overriding desire to do the right thing. But Taylor couldn't depend on guilt to help her built a better world. She needed something more than that.

Taylor needed to find something inside herself. Call it hope or whatever made sense to you. But it was something she desperately needed. The entire world was depending on her. She could make the calculations. See the end results. Only the individual variables changed, and not enough to matter.

The world would end in fire and flood, death and destruction. Only she could stop it. And only if she was willing to embrace the destructive side of her knowledge. To build the things that would either leverage that Golden Age or end the possibility forever.

Worse, there was something she wasn't seeing. Some terrible 'trick' this universe was playing on her. A greater threat was one possibility. Masked by the lesser ones around her. Taylor could sense it, but needed so much more data if she was to figure it out. JARVIS was a step in the right direction, just the first of so very many.

Taylor fumbled for her glasses on the side table. Putting them on, she got up. Glancing at the alarm clock, she noted it was almost four am. There would be no more sleep this night.

Padding through the dark halls of her home, Taylor allowed the stillness to quiet her thoughts for a moment. It was funny, in a way, how nothing that she thought about situation matter. How none of her agonized worry meant a single thing. Because the decision had already been made.

Bypassing tea for black coffee, Taylor sipped at the bitter, scalding beverage. There really wasn't a choice. The choice had been taken away from her as surely as if someone held a gun to her head. After all, she had hostages to fate as much as anyone else in this fucked up world.

Her dad was number one. Taylor would no more tolerate allowing the fate of the world to descend upon him, than she would jump in front of a bus. No, she would keep him safe, no matter the cost to her or the world.

There were a few people of far lesser importance, that also influenced Taylor. She wasn't so naïve and foolish to think that there wouldn't be others in the future who did as well. People she loved. Family. Children, perhaps. She'd do what was necessary to save them. The rest was just foolish angst.

In a lot of ways, the very self-destructiveness that Tony possessed was an advantage to Taylor. She knew the failure paths. She remembered them in a sick and disgusting way. And she would not stray down them.

Alcohol and arrogance. Isolation and loneliness. Guilt and self-loathing. These were the things that made Tony weak. That denied his world its safety and future. Taylor would not stray down those paths.

She didn't have the answers to everything. Clearly avoid drinking and drugs. Maintain her relationship with her father and slowly bring others into her world. Maybe make some of those others could keep her humble. Understand that she couldn't save everyone. That kind of hubris would destroy a saint.

Taylor turned on her computer and began meticulously typing away. She immersed herself in code, to the exclusion of all else. Taylor allowed the entire world to fall away until nothing else existed.

She worked silently for almost an hour. Until she was interrupted.

"What are you doing?"

Taylor looked up, blinking in the light from the overhead fixture. Trish stood in the doorway, wearing a pair of her pajamas, the ones with the little fishes on them, her arms folded over her chest. She was staring unblinking at Taylor, her gaze intense.

Taylor shrugged. "What do you mean?"

Trish came further into the room, almost cautious in her approach. "I mean, what are you doing? I figured it out, you know. What you are. You have another personality inside of you. Working with you. But I don't understand what you're doing. What are you trying to accomplish?"

The girl rambled on. "I can't figure you out. It's like there's something interfering with me. I did what I did with my own brain, but it's not enough. I _need_ to know. So please, tell me. What are you doing?"

Taylor stared long and hard at the other girl, her shyness, her social fears forgotten in light of what was happening. Trish was a threat. Tony Stark understood how to deal with threats. Because of that, so did she.

But Trish was also an opportunity. The little clues that she'd given were now confirmed. Taylor had a grasp of what kind of threat she represented. More importantly, she understood the kind of opportunity that lay therein.

Trish could be a tremendous resource if she was the Thinker that Taylor imagined. Trish could help shore up the weak points in her plans, while at the same time discovering those of her enemies. Maybe she could be one of those people who kept Taylor humble. Maybe something even more important.

So instead of denial, or subtle threats, Taylor bargained, "I'll tell you what I'm doing if you tell me what you are."

There. All laid out as plain as day. Taylor watched as Trish's eyes grew wide, her breath hitching. The arms that were hugging herself tightened, then relaxed as if she didn't want to give her tenseness away. Trish almost took a step back, then stopped, her weight on the balls of her feet as she could flee at the drop of a hat.

Tony Stark could read people, and through him, so could Taylor. She saw the myriad of emotions that passed over Trish's face. She recognized doubt and distrust, fear and uncertainty. How Trish was using her arms to protect herself. When the other girl seemed about to respond with a negative, Taylor spoke first, "Call it a leap of faith."

Understanding blazed in the other girl's eyes. Trish's breath hissed out and she sagged more than sat on the arm of the sofa nearest Taylor. She shook her head. "You don't even know me. How can you..." She trailed off, clearly struggling.

For a moment, Taylor felt her old self creeping back, filling her with doubts of the path ahead of her, making it start to cloud over. Ruthlessly, she dispelled those doubts, likely channeling far too much of Tony, but saw no other way to proceed. Inwardly trembling, she mentally chanted, _I'm Taylor. Taylor. Taylor_.

After several seconds, Taylor regained control of herself. "If you were to join me? We could accomplish so much. But it requires trust. Your trust. With your damage, I don't know if you can extend it. You don't know me well enough. Yesterday probably wasn't enough, either time or actions. So..."

The other echoed Taylor's earlier words, "A leap of faith."

The two sat in stillness for several minutes and Taylor could feel the opportunity slipping away. She would lose the other girl, who wouldn't stay any longer in such an uncontrolled environment, Taylor a perceived threat aimed directly at her. And the danger of discovery would increase. Another person out there with knowledge of what she was. Should she kill Trish now? It would be so easy. All she had to do was hammer the side of her hand into the bridge of Trish's nose, then follow up with a palm strike, driving the bone fragments into her br-

Suddenly, Trish spoke, "I'm a Thinker. At least level six. I figure out missing pieces, holes in puzzles. People, ideas, plans. My power gives me migraines if I use it too much, or the puzzles are too hard, too many pieces missing. But I'm getting better at it. A lot better."

Then Trish paused, waiting for Taylor to reciprocate. Taylor, who could feel her gorge rising as she viciously stamped down on her monstrous thoughts. She slowly unclenched her trembling hands. It took a moment to regain her composure and reply. But finally Taylor did so, choosing her words for the maximum impact. "The easy answer, the obvious answer, is that I'm writing code that will eventually become a true AI. The complex answer, the more accurate answer, is that I'm working on one of the steps of my plan to build an international company and become a superhero. The real answer, the answer that encompasses everything I'm trying to accomplish, is that I'm going to save the world."

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Trish stared, stunned into silence. Was Taylor kidding? Just staring into those determined brown eyes, Trish knew that she wasn't. Instead, Taylor, despite her somewhat flippant words, was serious as hell.

Save the world. What did that even mean? From who, or rather from what? Did she mean to battle Endbringers and other Class S threats like the Slaughterhouse Nine? And she expected Trish to help? Even if she wasn't kidding, she was surely mad.

Trish hadn't missed the clenched hands as the earlier tension had ratcheted. Even she hadn't known what she was going to say right up until she said it. Now she was almost regretting telling Taylor. What was going through her head. What was that other personality telling Taylor? What to do about her? Trish was afraid, the failure of her power only exacerbating the situation.

Because she couldn't read Taylor. Trish had known that Thinker powers sometimes interfered with one another. Her power had mostly seemed immune, because she filled in the missing pieces rather than coming up with massive strategies. So her abilities weren't often in contest with another Thinker's.

But with Taylor, Trish just couldn't use them at all to figure out the girl. Her headaches only got worse the more she tried. If she continued, they would grow crippling. Trish needed to know more, and if her power wouldn't tell her, then she needed to get the information from Taylor.

Her own tone was blasé as she spoke. "Save the world, huh? I thought it would be something hard." Please bite, Trish begged. Answer the implied questions,

Taylor's voice was seemingly detached as she asked, "Do you know what is going to happen if the Endbringers keep up their current rate of destruction?"

Cautiously, Trish answered, "No, but it can't be good." She hadn't tried to figure out the Endbringers. They weren't beyond a Thinker, but just looking at the problem obliquely, it seemed that their targeting wasn't random. A lot of people who might have helped save the world ended up dead at their hands. Trish didn't plan to be one of them.

Taylor nodded. "It isn't. Roughly twenty-three year before civilization falls. A little over fifty before the only humans are scattered encampments scattered around the globe. By that time, we'll be well on our way to extinction."

Trish could feel her pulse pounding. "You can't know that. The best Thinkers alive don't have numbers like that. They wou-"

"Maybe they already know. Or maybe they don't. But I do. Tony showed me how to figure it out. I did it without even using Reed's Social Engineering Programs. Because I'm smart now. Scary smart. Terrifyingly intelligent."

"So you're like a Thinker, too? Is that it?" Trish asked, anything to distract herself from considering the end of the world.

Taylor shook her head. "I don't think so. I woke up in the middle of the night almost a week ago and my head was full of memories. Memories of a man named Tony Stark. But it was more than that. I knew things. I understood things that I had never considered before. My brain was on fire. I had become _very_ intelligent. Beyond genius level. It nearly scared me to death. It still does. But I'm slowly getting a handle on things."

It had to be a Trigger Event of some kind. Definitely different than most. Trish wasn't even sure where to go, but her curiosity was peaked. "Who is Tony Stark?"

"Tony is... well, he's an inventor of sorts. The third or fourth most brilliant person alive on his world. And when you consider that world includes people like Reed Richards, Victor Von Doom, and the Mad Thinker, that's saying something. But Tony had something the others didn't. He had the ability to take a concept that was so esoteric and theoretical that only a handful of people alive understood it and build something to use it. To take advantage of it.

"He built battle armors of unbelievable power and versatility, fighting as a costumed hero named Iron Man. He built amazing items that helped make his world a much better place to live. He accomplished so much, incredible things, even though he was so self-destructive that he probably would have found a way to kill himself in a few more years. Then again, maybe not."

Trish was fascinated by the story, glad that it distracted her from Taylor's first question. "So he was a Triggered Tinker? On another Earth?"

Taylor began laughing. It was especially eerie because it didn't even sound like her. After a moment, she stopped, almost choking. Finally, she explained, "Tony thinks this world is so ridiculous and messed up. He can't even grasp the concept of Trigger Events. Of Tinkers that build things only they can maintain. These things simply don't make sense to him. In his world, if one person can build something, anyone can copy it. Use it. There, people gained powers a variety of ways. Cosmic radiation. Gamma Rays. Radioactive spider bites. Chemical spills. Every one of them had one thing in common. They tapped into some genetic potential the human race of his world possessed. So these people gained superhuman abilities.

"But they're definitely not the Parahumans that we're used to. I don't think that I'm one either. Tony thinks that someone interfered. One of the primal powers of the multiverse. Only they would have the power to shift his memories so far through reality."

"What do you mean?" Trish asked, by turns stunned and intrigued by Taylor's story.

"Because his race had the universes mapped through several thousand. And nothing like us existed in them. Many of those universes had superhumans, but they were all like the ones in Tony's world. Whatever is happening here in this chain, it's different. And it's far, far away from his."

"So what happened to this Tony? Did he die?"

Taylor's voice was strange and contemplative as she answered, "Oh yeah. He was killed by a cosmic being that burned his world down to the bedrock, destroying every single bit of life on it. A being as far above an Endbringer, as we are above a single-celled organism. Literally millions of times as powerful."

Trish could feel her gorge rising at the very thought, by turns horrified and intrigued. "I guess there was nothing he could have done, then."

Taylor's laugh was hollow. "Not true. Tony could have fought. Could have made a difference. But he was too afraid of himself. Of what a drunk like him would do with power like that. He never built the things he needed to win. As he lay dying, Tony had designs in his head for weapons that could alter reality. That could shatter the space-time continuum. Weapons that could erase entire sections of the quantum strata of the universe, rendering it null. Weapons that could have killed even a Celestial, if killing is even the right word for it."

Trish was terrified. If this Tony knew how to build these things, that meant that Taylor likely knew as well. The thought of that power in the hands of this strange, half-mad girl scared her more than anything she'd ever experienced in her life. From the look she received, it appeared that Taylor knew what she was thinking.

"Don't worry. I don't plan to erase the universe anytime soon. The last thing we need is another Big Bang. Or a Bigger Void. But I'm going to stop the Endbringers. I'm going to destroy the other S-class threats. Then I'm going to figure out what is really behind all of this."

For a moment, Trish's power leaped forth, hunting for the various answers to an immense question. Almost instantly, she was punished as the beginnings of a crippling migraine hit her. She managed to blank her mind before it grew worse.

Trish felt the other girl easing her down off of her perch to a more secure seat on the couch, her head leaning back against the cushiony surface. Then a hand gently rubbed her temples, occasionally stroking the hair back from her face. It was oddly soothing and slowly her migraine receded.

Trish knew she needed to rest. While on the run, she'd overused her power far too long. But it was the only way to be safe. How else could she trust anyone she met?

With Taylor, though, Trish was virtually blind. She didn't understand how Taylor could be so hard to read if everything she said was true. Not unless this Tony was right and a cosmic being had done this to her. Had rendered her immune to Thinker and Precognition pow-

Trish's breath hissed as her head pounded. For a moment, it hurt to breath, each breath feeling like it was a spike being driven into her brain. As if from a distance, she heard Taylor speak, "Stop thinking. You're making yourself sick. Give me a few days and I'll make something that should help with that. But for now, just relax and don't think."

Trish managed not to vomit all over the other girl as Taylor eased her down into a horizontal position on the couch. "Don't worry, Trish. I'll figure out how to fix things for you. After all, compared to saving the world, how hard can it be?"

The last thing Trish heard before passing out was another voice, which she vaguely recognized, saying, "It's going to be pretty damn hard from where I'm standing as you're going to be grounded for the rest of your life."

~~~Memories of Iron~~~


	6. Chapter Six—Echoes of Family

**Chapter Six—Echoes of Family**

**AN:** Okay, I wanted to thank everyone again for their great suggestions for inventions to sell in reviews and PM's. I finally narrowed it down to just a few and hope you enjoy the ones I ultimately decided upon. Others will come up eventually.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor turned towards the doorway. "Hey, Dad." She cursed at how small and weak her voice sounded. Where was larger than life Tony when she needed him? Because facing her dad alone was not going to be any picnic.

Danny Hebert's face was furious. His temper, always somewhat volatile, was currently boiling over. "Don't you-"

Something to delay things. Taylor waved at the mostly asleep Trish, then pointed towards the back of the house. She took his jerky nod for assent and walked past him towards the kitchen. Entering, she took a seat at the kitchen table. It was time to face the music.

Her dad came storming in and sat down opposite her. He wasted no time before beginning the inquisition. "What the hell is going on? You're a Parahuman now? How did this happen? When were you going to tell me? I want an answer now, young lady!"

Taylor stared at her dad's face. Remember, Taylor, she told herself, he's only upset because he loves you. It wasn't much of a consolation as it should have been. Taylor managed to meet his eyes, but inside she was shaking. It was hard to speak, but she knew she could not keep her dad waiting. So she just said the first thing that came to mind, "Tony never had a great relationship with his dad. They were virtual strangers. Yet when Howard Stark died, he was devastated." What the hell had she just said?

Danny's mouth opened, then closed in utter confusion. He barked, "What the hell are you saying, Taylor? What does any of that have to do with what you told Trish in that room?"

"Everything, Dad. It's one of the things that I have to fix or I'll go the same way as him. I'll end up isolated, alone, with no one to support me. No one to love me. It terrifies me, being that alone. I-" The words came out, jumbled and disjointed. Taylor barely knew what she was saying. She hoped her dad could figure it out.

Danny took a slow, deep breath. Then another. Taylor knew a classic ten count when she saw it. In this case, two of them, back to back. Finally, after a moment, he asked in a far gentler tone, "Taylor, start at the beginning. What is going on with you?" 

Taylor met her dad's eyes, then looked away from the raw emotion there. She wanted to cry so badly, but didn't know how. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words. She was floundering, feeling like a drowning victim, when her dad got up from his seat and moved around the table. Kneeling in front of her, he took her into his arms.

Slowly, Taylor relaxed into her father's arms, her eyes closed. "Taylor," she whispered. "I'm Taylor."

Her dad's grip tightened crushingly, then slowly eased. Breathing slowly in and out, Taylor began to explain, "The night I got suspended, I woke up screaming. Remember?" She could feel her dad nod as his chin brushed her hair. "It was because I woke up with someone else's memories. A man named Tony Stark. An inventor and a superhero. He's almost like a Tinker, but he's not. His tech is for everyone. He makes things not because of some Trigger Event, but because he's that smart. I'm that smart. I understand _everything_. And it's _terrifying._"

Danny slowly released her and moved back enough to meet her eyes. "Oh, Taylor. I'm so sorry, sweetie."

Taylor couldn't maintain the stare and looked away. A moment later she looked back at him and whispered, "Dad, I'm drowning in him. Tony's like a force of nature. He was over forty when he died and a hero for almost half of his life. His memories are inside of me and I sometimes don't know who he is and who I am. Where he starts and where I end. He was a playboy and slept with so many woman and I remember it all. It's horrible." She could feel red creeping over her features, something reflected on her dad's face.

Danny cleared his throat. "Umm... Taylor, we need to get you some help. The PRT-"

Taylor shook her head. "No, Dad. We can't trust them. They're corrupt. How can they not know about the end of the world? All of those Thinkers. How can they not be telling people about it? We need to either defeat the Endbringers or find a way to leave this world. The clock's ticking. I won't go anywhere near them."

Her dad gave her a searching look. "Taylor, how much of that was you, and how much was this Tony person? Because I don't remember you being this cynical."

Taylor's voice was weary. "Dad, you were there when I explained how thing are at school. I just see the PRT and the Protectorate as the school writ large. More importantly, they'll stop me. Try to control my technology. Keep me from putting it out there. Giving it to the people." Taylor was silent a moment. "Dad, they'll stop me from saving the world."

"Taylor, listen to yourself. I believe that you believe that you can make a difference. But some of the things you're saying are crazy. Weapons that can destroy reality. How... Why would you build such a thing?"

Taylor could feel Tony's memories pressing against her, suffocating her. Taylor! Taylor! Taylor! The mantra helped. With that, she managed a reply, "I'd do anything to protect you. To protect your friends, the people who stood by you when Mom died. I would move Heaven and Earth to save you all."

Her dad sat back on his heels, a tired sigh issuing forth. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I can get you some help. We don't have much money, but I can help you. A counselor-"

Suddenly furious, Taylor shouted, "No! Goddamn it! Listen to me! I don't need a counselor! I need you! I refuse to repeat Tony's mistakes! I won't do it! I was always going to tell you! I was! Listen to me. Please, Dad. Listen to me. Help me. Be there for me. I need you. Not a counselor. You. Dad. Daddy..."

It was like the floodgates opened, and for the first time in almost a year, Taylor cried. She felt her dad sweep her back into his arms, rubbing her back and whispering nonsense. She didn't care. The dam had given way and she had a ocean's worth of tears to cry.

Taylor held onto her father like he was a life preserver, and in many ways, he felt like one. He helped keep the memories at bay. Here, in his arms, she was more Taylor than she'd been in so long. Even before Tony, she hadn't been Taylor in so very long. Since her best friend first stabbed her in the back, then then did it again every single day thereafter.

Sobs wracked her slender frame, but her dad was like a rock. Time passed, how much she didn't know. But finally, the stabbing pain eased and Taylor could think again. Resting her head against Danny's shoulder, she took careful note of herself. There was a peacefulness to her thoughts that hadn't been present in far too long. Even the turbulence that was Tony Stark seemed calmer. Then again, he'd never cried a tear over his own father. Never truly had a chance to grieve. It had hardened something inside of him from an early age and affected his relationships with all the people in his life. With friends. With women. Maintaining a certain distance. Not allowing any of them to get too close. To breach the shell that covered him.

How fitting that Tony Stark had later become Iron Man. The suit was just another shell, this one physical, that protected him from the others around him.

Taylor had the chance for another path. One where she could live, love, and be happy. She would risk, going that route. There was no way around that. And with that risk came the chance of pain. But that pain just meant she was alive. Tony had taught her that. His memories. His regrets. Like ashes in her soul.

Slowly pushing away from her dad's shoulder, she looked him directly in the eye. Danny looked so worried for her. It was as reassuring as his earlier anger. He really loves me, she thought. It was a heady feeling knowing someone cared that much for her. To see it. Feel it. Be surrounded by it.

Speaking softly, Taylor slowly explained to her dad about the End of the World and how she would stop it.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Listening to his daughter speak was one of the defining moments of Danny Hebert's life. Always before, when Taylor had a problem, he'd been able to find a solution. To fix things.

Even the suspension he'd found a way to fix. Maybe he'd fallen short on the bullying, but even there, he had a idea that he'd planned to talk to Taylor about before she went back to school.

But this? He'd never felt so helpless before. Her words were like knives, cutting away the safe, relatively normal world they lived in, and exposing all of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface. Dangers that she could now see. Because she'd been given a gif-

Danny couldn't call it a gift. He refused. It was more like a curse. A terrible responsibility that no one that young should have to shoulder. That Taylor had done so, mostly alone, broke his heart, even as it made him proud.

It was a terrible pride. Now Danny knew how the parents of those Parahumans who faced the Endbringers felt. Not knowing if their child would survive. Knowing only the uncertainty and terrible danger. A danger he could no more protect Taylor from than he could scoop up the ocean with a pail.

Because Danny could see her eyes as she spoke. Taylor's eyes had always been a window into her innermost being. That had faded somewhat over the last two years, the twin blows of losing her mother and her best friend clouding and occluding that window. But Danny had still been able to see Taylor in there.

Now the window was wide open and a new Taylor shone forth. Her faith in herself was as glorious as it was frightening. Taylor understood things, dark and terrible things that she should never have seen or experienced. They were there, in those new memories. From a man who had lived and died a hero.

From everything Taylor explained, Danny had come to the conclusion that Tony Stark was not a good man. Heroic, yes. Self-sacrificing, maybe. A man of too many excesses, definitely. He was a man who had failed his world and been given a chance, through a surrogate, to save another. But he would need to use Danny's daughter to do so.

I'm not giving you Taylor, Danny thought, anger again moving within him. He wanted to shout it to the world so that 'Tony' could hear him. Instead, Danny tamped down on that anger, not wanting Taylor to see it and think it was aimed at her. Because it wasn't. If anything, it was aimed at whatever entity that had done this. If Tony Stark's memories were right, and some cosmic entity from his reality had done this, Danny cursed them to hell for what they had done.

Because while Taylor burned bright at the moment, Danny had a terrible understanding of just how brief such brilliance could be. He would not allow his daughter to go that route. He'd see her married with a loving husband and children if it killed him. This he swore upon his very soul.

Realizing his daughter was winding down, Danny asked a question, "And Trish? What part does she play in all of this?"

Taylor looked abashed. "I suppose you heard her, too, huh?"

Danny nodded. Of course he had. He'd heard most of what Taylor had told the blonde girl. It still scared him, even after all of Taylor's explanations.

Taylor shrugged. "Then you know that Trish is a Parahuman. A Thinker. One with a unique power. And I'm going to recruit her to help me." 

Danny repeated, "To help you save the world." 

Taylor gave him a solemn nod. Taking a deep breath, Danny stated, "All right, then. How can I help?" 

Taylor's mouth did a fair impression of a fish. "Huh?" 

Danny nodded resolutely. He would do anything for his daughter. Now just to figure out what that anything was. "How I can, Daniel Hebert, help you, Taylor Hebert, save the world?"

The fierce hug Danny received as a response almost made up for the terror he felt for Taylor. Almost.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Trish woke up, feeling a lot better than she had before. Slowing getting up, she glanced around the room, realizing that she'd been lying on the couch in the den. When had she...

Memories flooded back. Memories of what Taylor had told her. Of trying to get a handle on things using her power, only to have it backfire on her. The migraine.

Tentatively, Trish moved her head around. There was no trace of the migraine now. Instead, her ability felt like it was raring to go. So much so, that instant curiosity filled her. Where was Taylor Hebert?

The computer on the desk was on and her natural nosiness led Trish to investigate. Moving the mouse made the screensaver disappear. The prompt that appeared was requesting a password. Allowing her ability to come to the fore, Trish tried several without success. After ten minutes, she gave up with a frown. Whatever password protected Taylor's secrets, it wasn't anything obvious or from her life. Certainly nothing intuitive.

Trish got up from the chair and headed into the kitchen. She whistled soundlessly as she noted the time. It was after four. She'd slept the day away. Which made sense since she hadn't really slept much the night before. She-

Trish's head abruptly turned as she heard a sound of metal on metal. It was coming from a door off to the side of the kitchen. From her tour the day before, she knew that one led to the basement. Taylor had warned her to be careful about coming down there was it was potentially dangerous with so much crap all over the place. Plus, it was full of spiders.

However, spiders didn't make clanging sounds. With care, Trish opened the door and headed down the narrow staircase. Reaching the bottom, she looked around. Then stared. "What are you doing?"

The figure in front of her whirled around, long curly hair flying. An exasperated expression crossed the other's face as she said, "You keep asking me that."

"That's because you keep doing mysterious things. Seriously, though, what are you making?" There were lots of pieces of _something_ sitting all over the work table in front of Taylor.

Taylor shrugged. "An Arc Reactor."

Trish mouthed the words, then shook her head. "I know I'm a Thinker, but even I need a little more to go on."

Taylor looked amused. She explained, "It's a kind of cold fusion reactor that utilizes the beta decay of Palladium-107 ions as an electron source for the electron captureof Pd-103, thereby producing an electric circuit between two different radioactive isotopes."

Trish was trying to get her head around the science, when Taylor summed it up, "It produces three gigajoules per second or the equivalent energy of thirty barrels of oil a minute."

Trish whistled. "That's... impressive. What are you going to do with it?"

"Power the house. Get things set up for building a few items that I can use to leverage funds. That's actually one of the things I wanted to ask your to help me with. If you planned to join up with me that is."

Power the house? Then Trish understood as she made the connections to how Tinkers could be located by the PRT and the Protectorate. "Smart. Don't forget to still use a little power, though. It'll be even better than using no power for keeping you off their radar. And yes, I plan to join up with you. After all, who could say no to helping to save the world? What do you need me to do?"

Taylor gave the metal ring a critical stare, then turned towards her. "Welcome aboard. That's a really good idea by the way. I'll make sure to do it. Two things. First, I need you to let me know what items might be most helpful to build in terms of impressing someone, marketability, and sheer usefulness. I have my own ideas, but I want to hear yours. The items don't have to be helpful to people, but I would prefer it if they were. Second, I need you to research attorneys. I'm going to need representation. One of the first someones we'll need to impress will be the attorney. Because I can't afford to pay him right away, he'll need to understand the potential of what we're doing. That he will get paid threefold somewhere down the road."

Trish nodded. "Easy enough. I'll need access to a computer, though."

"You can use the one upstairs. The password today is Z!394a0Ob23%9^ !N?yiwQ. Need me to write it down?"

Trish shook her head. "I've got it." Was that why she didn't intuit a password? That was about as random as it came, but still... "Ahh... anything I should stay away from as far as items to sell?"

Taylor shrugged. "Nothing too big. Nothing too lethal. Try to think of at least one big ticket item that a government or the government might be interested in."

"The PRT?"

"No. Let's stick with the actual elected representatives. Like Congress." Taylor had a strange look on her face as she spoke.

Trish simply nodded, having no desire to risk a migraine by trying to parse Taylor's deeper meaning. "Okay. I'll be back in an hour."

Actually, she doubted it would take that long. She'd already done initial research into trustworthy attorneys who could also be useful to a Parahuman. She should be able to easily pick out someone from her short list just by cross referencing it with someone who also had contacts in government and industry.

And just like that, one name came up. Quinn Calle. Specialist in Parahuman cases. Had contacts in the PRT, the Protectorate, and the US government, as well as several foreign allied governments. He also had contacts in business as he had brokered several deals with very simple forms of Tinker-tech that had proven to be reproducible. Rumored to have an in with Toybox, the home of a group of independent Tinkers. Smart. Amoral. Absolutely dedicated to his clients.

Trish didn't know how Taylor would feel about him having represented so many villains, but hopefully she would be open to the idea of him representing them.

That done, Trish turned to the next task. Now just what should she ask Taylor to make that could sell for big money and also impress a man like Quinn Calle...

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

"What is that operating system you have on your computer?"

Taylor turned around upon hearing the question. She saw Trish, who looked excited. She explained, "It's based upon an open-source OS from overseas. I made some pretty extensive modifications, though."

Trish smiled. "It's amazing. Very intuitive. I especially like how fast it was able to go from program to program."

Taylor shrugged. "I based it upon Starktech's OS that was used in all of the computers they sold. Once I get JARVIS up and running, I'll have him write out a version that we can eventually sell. It beats the hell out of Windows or even Linux. Or that one you use here. I think it's called Mac?"

Trish nodded. "Yes, it is. Exactly what is JARVIS? An AI?"

"Yes. Very smart. Very helpful. He's one of the prerequisites I need to build an armored suit. At least beyond the most basic one."

Trish frowned. "What are you going to run him on? I don't imagine that you have access to a supercomputer or Tinker-tech."

"I'm building my own." Taylor enjoyed how Trish's eyes bulged slightly at the news. She held up a hand. "It's just a basic one, made from a couple of hundred old computer processors, but it'll do the job until I can build a better one. I'll probably use it, or a version of it, until I can build one using carbon-based chips instead of silicon." At Trish's odd look, Taylor explained, "Too many Parahumans have an affinity with glass. One of the worst villains, someone named Shatterbird, apparently can destroy all forms of electronics in a city she visits, causing huge problems. Carbon will be way better. Faster than hell, too. Now, what do you have for me?"

Taylor listened as Trish explained her choice of attorneys. She kept a frown off her face, even though she didn't like the idea of using someone who represented supervillains. How much of that was Tony, she didn't know. But otherwise, he sounded perfect.

Then it was time to hear the ideas about inventions.

Trish began, "First, we need to think in terms of threes. Three items for this go around. One should be a big ticket item that interests governments, especially our own. If it also interests industry that would be a bonus. The second should be an item aimed at people living in industrialized nations. Something that most people could use and can't be too expensive. The last one should be an item that can be used and sold world-wide. Hundreds of millions of people should be able to afford to buy and use it."

Trish continued, "It's important, I think, to first ask, what do people need? With the advent of the Endbringers and the inability to ship oil, an efficient way to make plastics would be huge. I mean government subsidies huge. Everyone would pay for it. Industries. The US government. Foreign governments. Everyone. Big profits that will come very soon."

Taylor nodded. That made sense. And she'd already considered it. "Okay, so one big ticket item. Any others?"

Trish nodded. "Fusion reactors. No one has been able to come up with a safe commercial fusion reactor versus the fission reactors that we currently use. Those are a constant danger from Endbringers, as well as producing enormous amounts of radioactive waste. A solution there would be very impressive. And net you billions."

Taylor critiqued the idea. "Billions, maybe. But it would be years coming. Any others?"

"A few more. Antigravity. For travel and for military applications. A ranged energy weapon. One that has multiple settings from stun on up. That can be sold in rifle form to the US military. It would allow them a much greater chance to defeat certain Parahumans. The flip side would be an energy shield. To protect troops from Parahumans and Endbringers alike. Hugely profitable. And very quickly."

Taylor frowned. She didn't want to get into weapons manufacturing so soon. Maybe the shield, then again, maybe not. After a few moments of consideration, she said, "I can build a plastic's synthesizer that can use a variety of plant matter to make high quality plastics. As long as there is some form of oil in the plants, such as corn, any number of beans, or even sawgrass. And it wouldn't need that much energy to do so, mostly using a series of chemical processes. I think that's the way to go."

Trish gave her an enthusiastic nod. "The next item is the one for industrial nations. I made a short list. A Holographic Projector/Recorder. An OS like the one you are already planning. A digital personal assistant, like a dumbed down AI. High capacity batteries or capacitors, useful in industry. Powered prosthetics and powered exoskeletons for the handicapped and industry respectively. A useful voice to text converter. Materials that are stronger or have unique properties. Specialized net search engine. Anti-virul software."

Taylor nodded. "That's a pretty good list. I think I can go one better. How about a Catalytic Water Converter that turns water into it's constituent elements H2 and O2 and burns them for energy? I can build one that would power the average household with a little left over. That way, if there's an attack and the power grid goes down, they will still have power. Even better, it produces water back again as a waste product."

Trish eyed her speculatively. "You can do that? Seriously?"

"Yeah. I can build almost anything, really, although some things need a lot more tooling and other technologies. Stark Enterprises had so many things in the works back in the day. That was just one of them. Think it would sell?"

Trish spoke in a cautious tone. "How much would it cost to build? The per unit cost, I mean."

Taylor considered. With the rare earth metals it would require, it wouldn't be dirt cheap. Ballparking it, she said, "About a thousand dollars to build, so we could sell it for three to four times that."

Trish spoke in a rush, "Yes, at that price, it would sell. Governments would buy it. For troops in the field. Better than generators by far. People would buy it to power their houses. You could have power even living out in the most remote locations. What would the life expectancy be?" 

"Probably at least twenty years. Based upon continuous use. Longer if it were intermittent."

"Taylor, that could sell better than the plastics synthesizer. Cheap energy like that has been the dream of everyone since the beginning of civilization."

Taylor hadn't considered how important it would be to a society that not only didn't have fusion reactors, but that also didn't have a source of cheap fossil fuels anymore. Her thoughts were interrupted by a squeal from Trish. "Taylor! We can use a smaller version in cars! We can license it for everything. Even propeller driven aircraft. There might even already be electric engines that could use the energy. I'll need to look into that."

"Smaller version? Just how big do you think the thing is?" Taylor was almost offended at the idea that something she was building would be oversized. Then she realized who was behind it. _Go away, Tony,_ she thought.

Trish shrugged. "I don't know. Refrigerator sized? Bigger?"

Taylor shook her head. "Two foot by three foot by three foot cube. Plus the water source, whether constant or a tank. I think that would fit in a car."

Trish nodded rapidly, clearly excited. "Yes, it would. Great idea. Now for the last set. Worldwide distribution. Any kind of healing device. A device for producing fresh water. Low moisture form of farming. Effective medicines such as antibiotics. High yield crops."

The only form of healing device that Taylor knew of was a portable Doc. But that was one and a half times the size of a refrigerator and would likely cost over twenty thousand to build even scavenging some parts. Plus she'd need JARVIS to help run it. Not a bad item to have, especially for troops who didn't have immediate access to doctors, but not for an undeveloped nation as it would be far too expensive and impractical. Plus, she couldn't afford to build one right now. Taylor did know of a couple of forms of medication, one a highly effective antibiotic, the other a form of quick heal. Both might work. However, of all the things that Trish had listed, the one that seemed the most useful was the fresh water supplier.

Taylor explained her idea. "How about a solar powered water filtration unit that can produce enough fresh water for a family of five? It can even process liquids like urine, turning them into one hundred percent pure H2O. Depending on the location, it can even pull moisture out of the air, probably enough to live on in a humid climate. Even in a desert, it would be enough to keep one person from dying from thirst. Err... probably."

"That would be fine. Taylor, how long would it take for you to make these items?" There was an undertone of wonderment in Trish's voice. Surprising, considering she lived in a world where stuff far more exotic was commonplace. Then again, almost none of that stuff had trickled down to ordinary people, whereas Taylor's items would be for everyone.

Back to Trish's question. Taylor allowed Tony's memories to the fore. She carefully considered everything, including her budget and how primitive her resources were. There would be a lot of grunt work in recovering the more rare metals from junked components as she couldn't afford to buy them. Plus she still had to finish JARVIS and the arc reactor. All told, at least a month of eight to ten hour days. That's what she told Trish.

Trish asked, "You think your dad will go for that? What about school?"

Taylor explained what she and her dad had come up with the day before, "Dad promised that if I make perfect scores on the make up tests, that he'll push for me to test out of high school. I'll get my diploma as soon as I pass them. They're like harder SAT's. And there's precedent as a girl in the grade ahead of me did that last year. So there shouldn't be anymore high school drama to worry about." She tried not to let that same relief show in her voice or on her face. Considering Trish's next words, she'd clearly failed.

In a careful tone, Trish said, "That's good. I don't know how bad it was there for you-"

Frowning, Taylor interrupted her, "Leave it alone, Trish. I haven't asked about your home life. Give me the same respect and don't ask about my school. Okay?" Wow, that almost had to be Tony, she thought. Trying to soften her initial words, Taylor said, "Look, it's a sensitive subject. I just don't want to talk about it right now."

Trish held up her hands. "No problem. I do understand."

Neither girl spoke for a while. Finally Trish said, "I have been meaning to ask you something. I am getting paid for doing this, aren't I?"

Taylor laughed out loud. That was definitely Tony who found Trish's question amusing. He was Captain Irreverence. Forcing herself to stop, Taylor said, "Yes, you're getting paid. Like the attorney, though." 

Trish sighed. "Yeah. Yeah. I get it. When you get paid, I get paid."

"Exactly."

~~~Memories of Iron~~~


	7. Chapter Seven—Virtual Memorials

**Chapter Seven—Virtual Memorials**

Taylor stared at the bluish-white glow of the arc reactor, triumph filling her. She'd done it. She'd built an arc reactor. And from the crude meter she'd put together, it was spot on in its power output. Now all she had to do was hook it up to the power grid of her home and they would no longer need to purchase electricity, although they would continue using just enough to show someone who was hurting for money and couldn't afford to run things like air conditioning. Instead, they would emulate a house running just a refrigerator and a few lights, pushed to the ragged edge.

"So that's it, huh?"

She turned as she heard Trish's voice. Taylor couldn't help the faint frown that crossed her features at how unimpressed the other girl sounded. Then Trish chuckled. "You're so easy. I admit, it's awesome. So what's next on the agenda?"

"Next is JARVIS. Once I hook this up to the house, I can afford the energy to run him and his cooling without showing up as a big blip on the power grid. Then you can really rock the information superhighway."

Trish looked doubtful, this time genuinely. "Are you sure that it's safe to build an AI? Without any built in limits?"

Taylor gave her a sharp glance. "JARVIS has limits."

"Uh huh. Do whatever Taylor tells you to do and don't hurt the good guys isn't what most people think of when they think of limits on an AI. You aren't even going to forbid him from reproducing."

Taylor sighed. "Look, if JARVIS wants to make more little JARVIS's and have them running around, I'm fine with that. I'm far more worried about someone hacking him. Not that I think they'll be able to." This last part was muttered under her breath.

"That's why you're going to hard code several of his functions, isn't it?" Trish looked thoughtful as she spoke.

After all, Taylor had reassured her that it would be virtually impossible for anyone to hack JARVIS. Still, she reiterated some of it yet again. "Yes, I'm going to use a mix of hard coding and alien tech to make him pretty much unhackable. If someone can get around a mix of Shi'iar, Kree, Skrull, and forty-first century human security as well as my own personal brand of expertise, they _deserve_ the right to hack him. Somehow, I don't think that even Parahumans are going to be able to do that."

Trish shook her head. "I don't know if you're underestimating them or not."

Taylor cocked her head as she picked up something in Trish's voice. "Still having trouble using your ability on me?"

"You and most of the things you work on." Trish's voice was aggrieved as she spoke. "It's the most annoying thing I've had to deal with since I triggered."

Taylor got up and gave her a pat on the cheek. "There, there. Want some cheese to go with that whine?"

Trish pulled away from her. "Tony alert."

"Goddammit! Sneaky bastard. He keeps doing that. Uh, thanks, by the way." Taylor gritted her teeth. Ever since she'd told Trish to watch for her channeling Tony, the girl had done so with a vengeance. Even without using her ability, she was uncannily accurate. Which made Taylor curious. "Just how are you doing that? Telling when I'm acting like Tony if your ability isn't working on me?" 

Trish gave her a sunny smile. "Easy. I just watch for you acting like me."

Taylor's return look was deadpan, but inwardly she was repressing a smile. It was nice having a friend.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Trish pushed her hair back from her face. She'd spent hours on the computer and was no closer to figuring out who'd tried to snatch her than before. Maybe it was time for another approach. She was about to go back to typing, thinking that she could follow hypothetical money trails for mercenary recruitment when she was interrupted.

"Trish, shouldn't you be in bed?"

Danny Hebert. She froze for a second, then turned around with a dazzling smile. "Hi, Mr Hebert. I'm just wrapping up some loose ends to help out Taylor."

Taylor's father stared at her, no answering smile gracing his features. "I've told you to call me Danny, Trish. But maybe a little formality is for the best right now."

Oh no. No no no no no. This was not happening. Trying to prevaricate, Trish said, "I'm not sure what you mean."

The doubtful glance Danny sent her way told Trish exactly what he thought of what she'd just said. "You know exactly what I mean. If living with you and Taylor the past few days has taught me anything, it's that both of you are terrifyingly intelligent. Certainly you understand the meaning behind the things I say almost before I say them. Don't you?"

What the hell could she say to _that?_ "I..."

He nodded. "That's what I thought. So you probably know what I'm about to say, right?"

Trish hated the sullenness present in her voice as she stated, "I should use better judgment when determining a bedtime. You're the adult and I should listen to you. I'm living under your roof and should respect boundaries set for me. You care about me and are only doing what's best for me." This last was said in a wistful tone and Trish stopped, unable to go on with a vulnerability laid bare like that.

Danny nodded, any discomfort he was feeling well hidden. Not to her, but to anyone else. Oddly enough, he wasn't really uncomfortable with Trish. In a lot of ways that was more devastating than if he'd wanted to burn her at the stake. Why couldn't her family have been more like him?

Trish stopped that line of thought immediately. Instead, she focused on something else. "You want me to be in the best shape I can be so that I can help Taylor." There, at least that was selfish, she thought in satisfaction, short-lived that it was.

Danny nodded, his expression neutral. "Can you blame me? I do want Taylor to stay safe. She's talking about going off and fighting monsters. Saving the world. What parent wouldn't worry?"

Mine, Trish thought.

"But I still want you to be safe as well. I want you to be happy. In a lot of ways, you ended up with the more difficult power. I mourn Taylor's loss of innocence. Having a forty plus year old man in her head who was a major league playboy isn't exactly how I wanted her to learn about sex and relationships. Tony was a cynical, womanizing bastard, God rest his soul. Taylor has to live with that. You, on the other hand, can read people like a book, their emotions, their motivations laid bare for you. I worry that no one is ever going to be good enough to not show up negatively in your eyes. Not when you can intuit their innermost secrets and feelings."

Trish visibly winced. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Every time she met a guy, a potential boyfriend, Trish knew exactly what they were thinking about her. The good and the bad. And no one was pretty enough and confident enough to enter into a relationship with that knowledge battering at it. Certainly she wasn't. And the sex? Trish shuddered at _that_ memory.

Still, she tried to head Danny off by telling him a partial truth. "I don't think relationships are going to be for me. Reading people that deeply isn't a good thing. Even now, you're wondering if I'll be strong enough to help Taylor."

Danny looked pained. "Probably. You're reading things before I even think about them. If you can read that, then you know that I am concerned about you as well. Not just in the ways you can help my daughter. Understand?" 

Trish did understand. Danny was genuine in his concern. Like everyone, he had deeper motives. But that didn't mean that he wasn't a good person who saw someone hurting and wanted to help. No wonder Taylor was such a saint with him as her father.

Trish saw Danny's flaws as well. He had a temper that erupted at times. But it was something he had been working on for a long time and it rarely saw the light of day anymore. There were a few others. He could be impatient, especially towards those he considered insincere and disingenuous. And he felt a sense of futility from his job, being unable to the people who looked to him.

Still, at the end of the day, Danny Hebert was a good man. One she couldn't afford to alienate. So she would follow his party line to avoid any friction. At least that was what Trish told herself as she got up from the computer after shutting it down. As she accepted his quick hug. As she went to sleep still thinking about him and her own family. Because anything else would be far too painful.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

"I hate you. You know that, right?"

Taylor repressed a grin as she finished putting the black dye on Trish's hair before covering it with the plastic cap to set up. "Don't blame me. You're the one who wants to come with me and help with gathering stuff for my inventions. You can't do that as a blonde."

The other girl's smile looked anything but vulpine as she sat there and sulked. "I didn't think you were going to dye my hair. Especially not black."

"What did you think was going to happen? You were going to put on a wig?"

Trish's look told Taylor that was exactly what she'd thought. She was sincere as she said, "I am sorry. But wigs, even the best ones, are noticeable. Better to use dye. That, along with these silicon inserts I made for your face, will make you unrecognizable to facial identification software."

Trish gave her another grumpy look. Taylor softly coaxed, "Besides, this way, you'll look like a member of the family. I made the inserts that way. You'll look enough like me and dad to be my sister. I've always wanted a brother or sister." Taylor couldn't help her wistful tone as she considered yet another way in which she and Tony were alike.

Trish's hand on her shoulder drove all thoughts of Tony out of her mind. They ended up sitting there in companionable silence until it was time to rinse the dye out of Trish's hair.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor yawned over her fourth cup of coffee that morning. She had finished all of the required physical parts for her version of JARVIS, as well as just enough of his programming, and was booting him up for the first time. If everything worked as it should, he would finish writing the rest of his own code and all she would have to do was integrate the newly written parts into his overall scheme.

Taylor glanced over to her left at Trish, who was concealing her own excitement with a blasé expression. Still, she got a quick wink in response. Her dad, who hovered on her other side, was grinning like a loon. Her team, Taylor thought with a smile.

Quickly pushing the discreet black button at the top of the makeshift server case she stood in front of, Taylor listened as the various fans spun up. Inside, processors, RAM, fans, and hard drives would all be receiving power for the first time together. She'd tested them all separately, but that was a entirely different animal. It was in working together that the true test began.

Taylor sat down at the bare workstation she'd installed, with it's simple keyboard, mouse, and monitor. JARVIS would eventually be able to talk, but that was ten million lines of code from now. He wouldn't be able to differentiate tone and context for at least five times that. But eventually, he would be everything that Tony Stark's memories said he would be. He would truly be JARVIS.

Taylor had long considered and reconsidered what to name her AI. At various times, she had wanted to change its name, voice, and very nature. But something had stayed her hand. It had been driven partially by Tony's memories, but also partially by her own feelings as well.

JARVIS was a person in his own right. That he had been created by Tony Stark didn't mean he wasn't alive. And Taylor couldn't leave him to dwell in darkness and death. Tony loved him as much as he loved anyone and probably more than most. Therefore, she did as well. So JARVIS would live again, complete with a British accent, a dryly sardonic attitude, and a strong concern for her welfare. That was the least she could do to honor the person who made this all possible.

Taylor typed briefly on the keyboard.

.:Execute Main Program Rewrite Alpha Praetorian One:.

.:Executing:.

.:ETA: 285h59m46s:.

.:Integration: 5h59m46s:.

She turned to her audience with a look of triumph, then deflated as she registered their confusion. "It's working," she said unnecessarily.

"Very nice, Taylor." Her dad's smile was a bit uncertain as he glanced at the screen.

"That's it? I thought it would be flashier." Trish's smile told Taylor she was teasing, but the words still grated a bit.

Taylor closed her eyes, then reopened them with a glare. "He's working fine." She glanced at the countdown timer. "Well, he will be once he's done writing code. I just have to integrate him every six hours."

Her dad frowned. "Every six hours? Four times a day? What about sleep?"

Taylor shrugged. "I'll nap. Dad, it won't kill me."

"Uh huh. We'll see about that."

Trish's eyes were speculative as they traveled from Taylor to the screen and back. "What if you miss one?"

"It won't do anything except delay things by however much time I wait. JARVIS needs each integration to keep going on. Each time he integrates, he gets faster. Writes a larger, much more complicated block of code in the same six hour timespan."

"How long until it talks?"

Danny looked surprised. "It's going to be able to talk? I thought it was a computer?"

Taylor stood up. "_He_ will be able to talk in about fourteen days or so. But he won't be at his best until he's done, just over twenty days from now. In the meantime, I need to start on the other projects we're going to need to show the attorney. You do have a plan to get his attention, right, Trish?"

Trish nodded decisively, her smile mischievous. "I do. Mr Calle won't know what hit him."

Danny gave her a doubtful look. "Trish, you're not planning to do anything that isn't on the up and up, are you?"

Trish turned to him and put her right hand over her heart. "I swear everything's completely legal."

Still, Taylor could see Trish's other hand behind her back with her fingers crossed in a familiar gesture. Oh well, she thought, hopefully, it's not too illegal. With that, Taylor wandered over to her work table, already planning exactly how she was going to build the Catalytic Water Converter. All she needed were the rarer metals for the chemical reaction in order to get H2 and O2 as byproducts. Now if she just used Technetium instead of Rhodium, that might save her some time in the catalyst department. But if she did that, she would need to change out the Platinum for Iridium.

Taylor never saw her audience leave.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor blinked as the alarm went off. It felt like it was even earlier than usual for some reason. Then she saw the time. It was only six am, when she'd set it for nine, planning to skip her run and katas for once for some reason she couldn't remember at the moment. So this is what three hours of sleep feels like, she thought. Then her thoughts were interrupted as a black-headed blur pounced on her.

"Taylor! Get up! It's Christmas!"

Oh yeah, that's why she had planned to sleep in. Christmas. Taylor slid out of bed and accompanied her friend downstairs to the Christmas tree they'd set up. There, she found her father blearily sipping a cup of hot coffee. When she held out a hand, he gave it to her.

Taylor gulped down half of it, then handed it back. She decided not to think about where her current coffee fixation had come from when she had always preferred tea. That way lay badness. To take her mind off of it, she stared at the tree for a while. Finally, Taylor said, "I don't remember there being quite so many presents under it."

"That's because I took some time the past few days and bought a few extra presents for the good little girls and boys." Trish's vulpine grin was more than a little manic, but Taylor decided to forgive her since it was the season and all.

Taylor glanced at her father, who just smiled back at her. Okay, he was apparently fine with this, whatever this was. In the meantime, Trish had started handing out presents. All too soon, each of them had a pile of wrapped gifts in front of them.

"Well, aren't you going to open them?"

Taylor immediately started in on her gifts, tearing open the wrappings and scattering the pieces to the winds. At one point, she almost stopped as she realized that she was pulling a Tony who had never had to clean up after himself. Then she decided to just keep going. Taylor could pull out the broom and dustpan when she was done. Take that, playboy, she thought triumphantly.

Finally finished, Taylor looked over her loot. She had four shirts, only two of which she was sure were dad approved, the others being short enough to show at least a couple of inches of her stomach. She also had three pairs of jeans, one lowrise and _very_ tight, and two skirts, both extremely short. There were also three different books she'd been wanting to read. Taylor forcibly suppressed Tony's approval of the designer labels on several of the items. Snob, she thought.

It wasn't hard to figure out who had bought what and Taylor delivered hugs to all parties involved. As she hugged her father, she whispered, "I love you, Dad. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Taylor. I love you, too." Giving her a final smile, he went back to examining the electric shaver Taylor had purchased and rebuilt for him. It would now deliver a world-class shave with zero skin chafing, a fact he would hopefully appreciate. Eventually, Taylor might reinvent that permanent depilatory foam, but that was something for the future. Until then, they would both have to keep shaving the requisite parts of their anatomies that required it.

With Trish, Taylor just hugged her and asked, "Do you really think I'm going to wear those tops and skirts? Me?"

There was a look of faint alarm on her dad's face as Trish winked at her. "You never know, do you? I picked out stuff that will look amazing on you. I bet Tony will approve."

Taylor just shook her head, unable to keep a smile from her face. She watched as Trish looked over her own gifts. Again, there was a dichotomy between the items she had clearly bought herself and those given to her from Danny. But Trish clearly appreciated them all as she hugged a soft blue cotton top to her face, her smile completely genuine for once.

Taylor had again gone with the technology theme, and had given Trish a smart phone that would work even without cell towers, being able to access satellite signals. It was also encrypted to be unhackable. Taylor had one of her own to match, and yet another for her dad. However, she was waiting until later to hand those out with how her dad felt about cell phones. While she understood that using one had contributed to her mother's death, Taylor doubted that it was the only factor. And they were far too useful to not have on hand, especially when they reached Phase Two of her plan.

But for now, it was Christmas and extra cell phones could wait. Taylor was looking forward to trying the Christmas dinner that Trish was going to make. Supposedly she could cook, or had figured out how to from reading about it. How well remained to be seen. Or tasted.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor hit enter and watched as the latest update to JARVIS took place. This one integrated noticeably faster than the first few. JARVIS was now starting to fly, but compared to how fast he would eventually be, he was doing so at the equivalent of a crawl. She briefly checked over the code that was scrolling across the screen almost too fast for even her to read, then moved over to her workbench.

In separate piles, lay evidence of the past several days of both her own and Trish's time. Taylor had all of the metals she needed to build each of the items that she was planning to show the attorney. Now all she had to do was some machining work and general assembly. Nothing too terribly complex, at least for her.

Taylor would also need to provide plans for each, but that could wait for JARVIS. He would be able to easily write those when he was fully operational in another week and a half. In the meantime, she was using the distraction of building the devices as a way to avoid thinking about tomorrow.

Because tomorrow was the day Taylor returned to Winslow High to take her make up tests and possibly deal with her nemeses. If she were lucky, she would not have to see Emma, Sophia, or Madison. Unfortunately, Taylor couldn't count on luck being on her side. Especially not in regard to high school.

So Taylor would need to be on the look out for them. She would need to ace her tests. Then she would need her dad's help to convince the administration to allow her to test out of the remainder of school. However, even without it, she had a plan to deal with her bullies and an uncaring school administration once and for all. Or rather Tony did. If she had to use it, they would regret ever having hurt her.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Emma tapped Sophia on the shoulder, giggling slightly at the other girl's surprise. "Fooled you."

Spinning around, Sophia gave her a slightly disgruntled look. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. After all, it's not like we're doing anything important."

Emma shrugged. "Suck it up. Did you find out anything about why Hebert's not in class?"

Sophia exchanged a conspiratorial look with the other inner member of their little group, Madison Clements, then nodded. "I did. Taylor's taking make up exams. She'll be in there all morning. Maybe even all day. But after that..."

Emma's answering smile was cruel even for her before it changed to one of consideration. "After that, we, or rather you, put her in the locker."

Sophia crowed, "Taylor's gonna freak!"

Madison wore a faintly ill look as she said, "I still think that's going to far. I mean, that stuff's been sitting around festering since she was suspended. Putting it in there this morning was sickening. I can still smell it if I get too close to her locker. It's gross."

Emma glared at her. "You can't smell it. It's your imagination. Quit being such a wimp. After all, this was partly your idea. Besides, Taylor should have taken a hint when we got her suspended, right Sophia?"

"Bitch deserves it for being weak. Besides, it's not as if it'll kill her. Best and worst thing that could happen would be if she snaps and goes a little nuts. They can put her in the looneybin. Then she's out of our hair." Sophia could have been talking about the weather instead of their classmate for all of the emotion in her voice.

Emma pushed aside a feeling of horrified disbelief that she had descended to this as she considered Sophia's words. Fuck that. Taylor did deserve it. For being a nobody and trying to make Emma the same. For being oblivious when she should have been paying attention. For not being there when Emma had needed her. Now she was going to pay. Besides, a few stinky tampons and some garbage wasn't going to hurt her. Emma doubted that it would hurt nearly as much as stealing and destroying her mother's flute had. Now that had been fun.

Or as much as it would when Emma hit her with what she had been saving up for the past several months. But that particular gem would wait for the future. For now, it was the locker and some disgusting waste. All designed to push Taylor out of her sight and out of her life. After this, the nobody would be put in her place.

Emma had one final piece of advice. "Don't forget that if we don't see Taylor by lunchtime, we're waiting around for her in that empty classroom where we can see her locker. We're only getting one shot at her with this and I don't want to miss it. Understand?"

The submissive nods of the other two girls was a salve for Emma's anger. With a smile, she led her friends back to class.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor bit back a yawn as she finished the last of the tests she'd been assigned. They were predictably ridiculously harder than the midterms they replaced. Not that it mattered. She had aced them all, not missing so much as one problem. The only one she hadn't been one hundred percent sure about going in was History, and that had turned out to be just as easy as the rest.

Not that Taylor had really studied for the test, but she had briefly read her history book. For someone like Tony Stark, who could become an expert in a field overnight, that had been more than enough.

Now all she had to do was hit her locker on the way out, clearing out anything she wasn't planning to leave here. Because other than to test out of school, Taylor wasn't coming back. She was done wasting her time trying to fit in here. Especially when she didn't need high school anymore. Nor the problems that came along with it. At least she didn't have to worry about running into anyone. It was between classes and that meant her former trio of bullies would be in class and out of her way, as would be the rest of the student population.

Taylor had seen her former best friend Emma as she had strolled into school before classes started. Emma had given her a look of surprise at her appearance before it had turned into a contemptuous sneer. She'd then deliberately turned away, and Taylor had ignored her in turn.

Truth be told, Taylor was almost as surprised by her own appearance as Emma was. She had let Trish talk her into one of those tops that showed off nearly three inches of her now flat stomach as well as the skintight jeans that she'd given Taylor for Christmas. At least she gotten her way and worn a jean jacket over it, even if she kept it unbuttoned.

Taylor had gotten some second looks while walking towards the classroom for her make up tests and she had to admit that Trish (and Tony) were right in that the clothes were flattering to her too thin figure.

Walking up to her locker, Taylor wrinkled her nose as she smelled something foul. Joy, she thought, I wonder what that could be. Opening the door, Taylor was assaulted by one of the foulest sights and smells she had ever experienced. The only thing keeping her from retching was that Tony remembered far worse things and she had already yakked to those memories. Compared to some of those, this was positively tame.

Taylor sensed more than saw someone and abruptly spun out of the way as Sophia Hess drove herself face first into the disgusting mess of her locker, helped along by an elbow to the back of her head. The training regimen that Taylor had been putting herself through had definitely helped and it was relatively simple to kick surprised girl's legs out from under her, dropping her face first into the worst of the mess in her locker. As a final insult, Taylor pulled a zip tie from a pocket of her backpack and quickly fastened the girl's hands together behind her back.

Standing back up, Taylor placed her foot and at least half of her weight on the small of Sophia's back to hold her in place, and met the stunned gazes of Emma and Madison, the other two members of the bullying trio. She raised an ironic brow and waited to see what they would do, even as Sophia began cursing and struggling to get loose between bouts of retching. She didn't know how they weren't in class, but realized they must have skipped to get a shot at her. Well, Taylor thought in dread, there goes my idea for a quiet day.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

AN1: Contains minor Spoiler for Worm. Well, here it is the beginning of the showdown with the trio. I always hated those bitches, and despite Wildbow's attempts to paint them as human by showing Emma and Sophia's motivations for how they ended up the way they were, I never felt the slightest bit of sympathy for them. When people act the way those two did, it doesn't matter what their reasons are. I always felt that Regent should have just killed Sophia when he had her teetering on that chair. Would have been justice.

AN2: Next chapter has the confrontation. Oh the fun I had writing that! I'll be posting it soon.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~


	8. Chapter Eight—A Dish Best Served Cold

**Chapter Eight—A Dish Best Served Cold**

**AN:** I received a lot of good reviews and feedback on Chapter Seven. I made some changes to that chapter as a result as well as to this chapter. I think the changes address the concerns. But if any of you can think of ways to improve things, let me know. I promise my feelings won't be hurt. I might even put it in the story.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Okay, Tony, she thought, do your absolute worst, but be careful of Emma. She's the most dangerous one here. Tony must have been listening because suddenly, Taylor knew exactly what to say. Her first words aloud were, "Sophia Hess. Emma Barnes. Madison Clements. Funny running into you here. Then again, the smell should have given it away. Emma, you really should keep your attack dog on a shorter leash. See what happens when you don't?"

"You..." Emma breathed, the intensity of her stare far outweighing her volume of her voice. "You complete waste of space! Why are you even alive?"

Taylor waited, her expression bored, even as her stomach roiled at the confrontation. Finally, she yawned for effect. "That's it? That's all you got? Seriously? After all the things you've said and done, you call me a waste of space? That's kinda sad, really." Then to the struggling girl upon whom her foot still rested, Taylor said, "Bad dog. Stay."

Madison intervened at this point, her voice shrill, "You don't get to talk to her that way! She's-"

Taylor interrupted her, while waving a finger at Emma. "Now, now. We don't want to hear the yap dog either. This is between you and me, Emma. Call off your little doggie or I'll have to get a rolled up newspaper."

Madison stamped her foot in annoyance and opened her mouth to respond. As she did so, Taylor, with deadly precision, interrupted her, "Yap." Then again. "Yap, yap." Finally. "Yap." After the last one, Madison just stood there, a stunned look upon her face. She actually flinched as Taylor mouthed one more "Yap" at her. Taylor could barely believe that had worked, but it had. Now to deal with the leader of the pack.

Emma was visibly seething at Taylor's treatment of her friends. Finally she said, "You really shouldn't have done this, Taylor. Now you're going down for assaulting us. How much of a suspension do you think you'll get? Or will you be expelled? I should just call a teacher right now."

Taylor casually clapped her hands while nodding her head. "Bravo! You know, for just one second, I was actually trembling. Not in fear, but there was an emotion there. Oh wait, it was contempt. Emma, you really are a fucking idiot. Besides, you want to tell me how much you hate me more than get me in trouble with a teacher." That was pretty much the truth, Taylor thought, her fear slowly fading as her anger grew.

Emma's eyes grew dark and deadly even as Madison defended her. "She's not an id-"

"Yap." Taylor smiled in contempt as Madison shut up. "Good dog."

Emma's expression grew thoughtful. In a fake tone of sympathy, she said, "You know, Taylor, I would have thought you'd be more upset after just spending Christmas with only one parent. Your mother being dead and all. And you causing it. Imagine killing your own mother? I would have thought you'd cry yourself to sleep for a week straight."

Taylor slowly raised one brow, her expression showing only disbelief even as pain ripped through her. It was a low blow to use that against her. But then that was Emma now. Taylor would not give her the satisfaction of reacting, although by the slight widening of Emma's eyes, she still must of seen something. "That's it? That's your big plan? To give me a hard time because I cried myself to sleep for a week when my mother died? Emma, anyone would cry like that if their mother died. What? Were you raised by wolves? Even someone like you, if you found out that your mother died, would cry. I bet even Sophia here would shed a tear. Isn't that right, attack dog?" Taylor ground her shoe into the other girl's back as she spoke, anger at what had been said to her making her press harder than she intended. For a moment, her whole weight rested on Sophia's back, then she backed off. Regardless, only muttered imprecations and gagging sounds answered her. She wasn't really listening to Sophia, all of her attention focused upon the other two girls in front of her.

"Then again, maybe not." Taylor pinned Madison with an icy stare. "How about you, yap dog? Would you cry if mommy dearest headed into the great hereafter? If she got mangled in a wreck and bled out at the scene?" Taylor knew she was projecting, but she couldn't make herself stop. It was how her mother died and it still hurt to think about it.

Madison's lips actually trembled. She didn't answer and finally a tear spilled its way down her cheek. Emma turned her way and exclaimed, "God, Mads, you're letting her get to you. Get it together!"

Truer words were never spoken, Taylor thought as she shook her head. She needed to get it together. "Tsk, tsk. Emma, you really are an evil bitch. Which makes it amazing that the teachers here actually believe your act."

Emma gave her a cold glare. In a voice made all the more deadly for its syrupy sweetness, she explained as if to an idiot, "Of course they believe me, Taylor. Because they're a bunch of pathetic, idiotic losers who couldn't find their own ass with both hands. All I have to do is tell them something and they're ready to say, 'You poor dear, we'll follow right up on that.' Don't you wish they believed you like that, Taylor?" This last was said in a tone of false sympathy, as if commiserating with Taylor.

Taylor's tone was even as she said, "Like Mrs Reese." Like the ultimate betrayal, she thought dully.

Emma's eyes gleamed darkly. There was sadistic glee in her voice as she said, "Mrs Reese couldn't wait to buy what I was selling her. I could have told her that the moon was made of green cheese and you'd stolen it and she would have believed me and had you in to see Principal Blackwell. That test was just a bonus. Poor Taylor, she was one of the teachers that you liked, wasn't she?"

Taylor held up a hand and idly examined her nails, while inwardly shaking. She forced her tone to be casual as she stated, "I never did figure out how you got a hold of her test. I would have thought she'd keep them locked up."

Emma shrugged in utter unconcern. "Sophia got it. I don't know how. But it was easy from there. You were so _desperate_ to do better. You must have studied a _ton_. Then you end up blowing chunks after Reese said you were a cheater. Classic Taylor. So pathetic since your mom died."

Taylor responded back instantly, "Classic Emma. Such a bitch since she met Sophia." But she was left wondering how did Sophia get a hold of the test? Dismissing the thought for now, Taylor pushed again, "Are there any teachers you like? I mean, you must at least like Mr Gladly. He lets you hang out in groups in class and figure out ways to torture me."

Emma's face was a picture of frustrated anger at not getting more of a reaction from Taylor, which probably made her go further than she meant to. "Please. That loser is worthless. He's so pathetic. He must have been some nerdy geek back in high school, desperate for everyone to like him. Especially the popular kids. And he still is. I get away with murder in his class and either he doesn't know it, or worse, knows, but won't do anything about it. I mean, he watched me pour orange juice on your seat one day and I told him I spilled it by accident. And he bought it! That's what happens when you're popular, but then you wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Taylor?"

At that moment, Sophia tried to twist around. Taylor let her, stepping mostly off of her, and for the first time, she was treated with a view of Sophia's face as it came free of the bottom of her locker.

Sophia's face was covered in blood, bugs, and vomit, as was the carefully corn-rowed hair. Bits of rotted stinking tampons clung to her cheeks and forehead. Her nose was clearly swelling and likely broken either from the collision with the back of the locker or when her feet were swept out from under her. Looking up at Taylor, Sophia snarled, "I'm gwonna kwill yoo, Whebwet."

Twisting around so that she could see Emma, who visibly recoiled at the view, Sophia snapped, "Swhut wha fook wup, shwe's pwaying woo. Dwon't well wer anythoong mo'." Emma's face changed from disgust to confusion as she seemed to consider Sophia's words. She also looked concerned for the plight of her friend, making an aborted attempt to reach down to her, then apparently rethinking it.

Before Emma could respond, Taylor mockingly said, "Ooooh, the attack dog turns on its owner. Or were you trying to save her from herself? Then again, you were never that loyal a doggie, were you, Sophia? Not like little Mads here. Yap, yap!" This last was a warning and again Madison shut her mouth. The only sound she made was a sniffling one as her eyes glittered with unshed tears.

Emma stared down at her friend. "What were you trying to say, Sophia? Why couldn't you get this skinny bitch into the locker?" This last was said in a plaintive tone. "And after Mads and I managed to get all that waste and dump it in. You should have put her in the locker!" Emma stamped her foot in frustration.

Sophia blinked rapidly as a bug skittered across one eyelid. She seemed about to vomit again. Her expression was one of confused anger. "Swe twicked muh."

Taylor casually put her foot back on Sophia, this time on her hip, rubbing it into the material. "No tricking was involved. I wasn't the one trying to stuff someone into a locker full of disgusting crap. I mean, where did you even get all of that, Emma? Are you hanging out in the girls' locker room and taking donations? Or maybe you're offering to remove them yourself? Kind of a tampon changing service." Okay, that last bit had grossed even her out, and Taylor could almost feel Tony agreeing.

Emma's face screwed up into an expression of disgust. "You're sick!" Madison, while staying silent, looked like she agreed.

Taylor's tone was deadly as she drove the knife home, all her rage at her treatment evident in her voice. "I'm not the one who tortured and tormented my former best friend for over a year and a half for no reason. I'm not the one who treats everyone around me with contempt, with friends who are just as bad. I'm not the one thinks the teachers are idiots and uses them as patsies in her schemes. The only sick one here, by your own confession, is you, Emma!" Taylor's voice, which had been steadily rising throughout her diatribe, was shouting by the time she said Emma's name. Calming down a bit, she finished, "Although, personally, I think you're just a sociopath. Like attack dog here."

Taylor went to put more weight on Sophia, when suddenly she stumbled as there was no resistance and her foot hit the ground. Quickly recovering, she watched as Sophia stumbled to her feet, her hands now free of the zip tie and frantically rubbing over her face. Insects and other things went flying as she continued to try to clean them off of herself.

Emma made a disgusted sound and stepped back as a wad of toilet paper teeming with maggots landed near her foot. Then she seemed to find her courage as she reached over to start wiping things off of Sophia as well. That seemed to snap Sophia out of her funk. She turned back towards Taylor, who had been looking at the still fastened zip tie lying on the ground and trying to puzzle out how she'd gotten loose. Taylor immediately focused on the other girl, ready to move whichever way she needed, all the while registering the rage and hatred in Sophia's eyes. The girl looked positively murderous. For a moment, Taylor feared for her life, suddenly conscious of how alone they were and of the muscular form tensing as if preparing to attack her.

Then it was all rendered moot as a shrill voice demanded, "What the hell is going on out here?"

Taylor allowed her breath to leave her as she slowly relaxed. It was all she could do not to vomit in sheer relief from the tension. Or maybe it was the adrenaline pounding through her veins making her queasy. Regardless, she needed to keep her head on straight. After all, it wasn't going to get any better for a while. Actually, here was where it was going to get really ugly for her. Not for long, but she needed to just relax and take it. Then she'd dish it out one more time.

Taylor still didn't know where half the things she'd said had come from. Or how much of that had been Tony and how much had been her. The sheer viciousness of the exchange sickened her. But she only had to hold on for a little while longer.

Even as Emma went into a song and dance about her attacking them, Taylor carefully reached into her backpack's side pocket and hit a button on her new phone. One that automatically uploaded a video to Youtube. A video that had already been labeled. One that showed all of the events that had just taken place. Then the action erased itself from her phone as if it had never happened.

There, it was done. Taylor focused back into the conversation going on around her.

"-coming with me to the office to speak to Principal Blackwell, Taylor. The rest of you, escort Sophia to the nurse's office. Stay there until we come get you."

With that, the teacher, now identified as Mr Gladly, caught her attention and ushered Taylor along. Taylor couldn't help the cold smile that overtook her face at the furtive, upset whispering that was occurring behind her. She ignored anything Mr Gladly said as they walked and generally tuned out the world around her, thinking instead of fifth dimensional matrices and solving them in her mind, a difficult exercise even for her. Until, that is, she was finally escorted into Principal Blackwell's office after waiting at least forty-five minutes, the whole time watching flunkies go in and out.

Taylor looked around casually at the decor, a mix of cheap paneling and lower end office furniture, the walls covered in various awards, diplomas, and certifications. Finally, she focused her attention on the woman who was giving her a narrow stare, one that had been honed by years of dealing with difficult and recalcitrant students.

Taylor merely allowed it to roll off her back. When Principal Blackwell finally spoke, it was only to say, "Well, Taylor, do you have anything to say in your defense? I wouldn't mind hearing your side before I speak to the other girls involved."

On the surface, it sounded fair and impartial, but Taylor remembered how things were dealt with here. Here, there was no justice. Here, if you were popular and had enough friends who supported your position, you were right and the other person was wrong. Here was where she had lost so many battles before. But not today. Not ever again.

Taylor spoke carefully, as if to make sure the other woman could understand every word. "Here's what's going to happen, Principal Blackwell. You're going to approve me testing out of school and award me a full diploma two and a half years early after I pass. Then you're going to set up a series of protocols in place for how to handle future bullying. I'll have to sign off on it. You can use the one in place at Arcadia High as a template for it. If you don't, you, and this school, are going to be in a world of trouble."

The other woman's eyes bulged in fury for just a moment, before she visibly got control of herself. Her tone was steely as she asked, "Why would I do that, Taylor? My initial impression is that you caused a great deal of trouble today. Trouble which you were solely responsible for. And this after all of your claims about being bullied. Why would I want to help a troublemaker? Why would I believe you?"

Taylor shrugged, as truthfully, she didn't know either. "If I were you, I'd look up a video that's just been posted on Youtube. It's called 'Popular Girl Bullies Go Crazy.' You might find it enlightening."

The other woman seemed to register the casualness of Taylor's tone and her lack of fear. There was a moment of indecision, then she pulled her keyboard towards herself and typed a few things. After a moment, what was clearly a video began to play on her monitor, the sound low, but still audible.

Taylor pulled the phone she'd secured from the side pocket of her backpack and looked up the same video. She was less interested in watching it than checking the views and reading a few of the comments. Wow, she thought, there's already over fifty thousand hits in less than an hour. Then she read some of the comments. Then some more. Isn't that interesting, she thought dully, as blood pounded in her head making her dizzy. No wonder it was so popular, what with all of the links from Parahumans dot net. No doubt the forums there were blowing up over the news.

Principal Blackwell seemed to have finally finished viewing the video and sat there, her fingers steepled in front of her. Her expression seemed as vaguely nauseated as Taylor felt and she didn't speak for several minutes.

Finally, though, she spoke, "You're responsible for outing a cape, Taylor. I don't know how that's going to play."

Taylor shrugged. "I didn't take the video or upload it. I was the person starring in it, and afterwards, I was waiting outside your office, then inside with you. Regardless, even if I had posted the video, the only person responsible for outing themselves is Sophia. Imagine that, using your powers in school, in front of several people. And the things she said? Is that how they train members of the Wards these days? Psycho 101?" 

It had been near the end of the video that it had occurred. The angle it had been shot from was from above and behind Taylor. And it clearly showed Sophia phasing into a shadow state for just one second to get out of the zip tie, then phasing back in even as she spun her body around to get away from Taylor and struggle to her feet.

Neither Taylor, nor any of the others present had seen her do it as they'd been completely focused upon one another. If not for the recording, Sophia would have gotten away with it. But not now. Now there was a video on Youtube, in crystal clear 1080p, showing her using her powers while in her civilian identity. Powers that had already been commented upon by thousands. And not just that.

All of Sophia's muttering, which Taylor had mostly ignored and tuned out during her confrontation with Emma, had apparently come across clearly in the video. She must have been very creative in her threats towards Taylor because the comments under the video had grown increasingly freaked out as a cape, one of the Wards of the Local Protectorate, made death and torture threats towards a fifteen year old girl because she'd somehow turned the tables on her during a bullying attempt.

Taylor leaned forward, resting her hands on the desk in front of her. "So tell me, Principal Blackwell, when exactly are you going to make the arrangements for me to take those tests? Also, when do you think you'll have that plan to handle future bullying ready for me to look over? By the way, a good contact over at Arcadia High is Principal Howell. I think she's one of the vice principals there." Make that know as Taylor had spent quite a bit of time researching Arcadia High, even before getting suspended. She had so desperately wanted to get away from Winslow High. Principal Howell had been kind even if she couldn't help Taylor with her specific situation at the time.

Principal Blackwell momentarily looked concerned before her mask went back into place. "Well, Taylor, I think this has gone far enough. I'll be punishing the girls involved, of course. If only you had brought this to me earlier, we might have been able to avert a tragedy."

Taylor shook her head. She wasn't done yet. "You knew."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You knew that Sophia Hess was Shadow Stalker. That she was a Ward. You knew and you covered up instances of her misbehavior. That's why no one would help me. That's why the teachers stopped bothering to intervene when they saw her and her friends bullying me."

There was a tic in the corner of Principal Blackwell's eye. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you honestly believe you can keep that covered up? That teachers won't come clean if there's a lawsuit? Hell, I could go to the police and while they can't involve themselves in Sophia's situation, there's nothing to prevent them from dealing with Emma and Madison. They'll ask questions you don't want asked because the answers could put you in jail."

The principal's hand was visibly trembling as she held it up as if to stop Taylor from speaking. "I need to think. I-"

Taylor shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Tick tock, Principal Blackwell. That's the sound of time running out on my offer. Schedule the tests or I'm going forward with the lawsuit and the police. Once the police are done with you, I'll sue the school, the teachers, you, the three girls, their parents, and maybe the city itself. Certainly the PRT and Protectorate. I won't even have to pay a dime to do so. There's not an attorney in the city who wouldn't take this case on a contingency, knowing there's a fat payday at the end. I'll be fighting off ambulance chasers for _years._"

Principal Blackwell's tone was desperate as she asked, "You'll have your father sign a waiver absolving the school from any responsibility for what happened if I arrange for those tests? Get that plan for you?" 

"Uh, no. You'll just have to take my word that we won't sue. I mean, surely you trust me. Right? After all, I'm the innocent victim here. What reason would I have to lie?" This last was said in such a vicious tone that the woman flinched. Taylor leaned back in her chair. "Arrange for the tests. Let's say, Friday morning. I'll swing by and take them. Once they're graded and I get my diploma, you'll won't see me again until it's time to approve that plan. Although, I do expect you to have talked with Principal Howell by Friday as well. Anyway, once the plan's approved and implemented, you'll never see me again after that. At least so long as it's being administered fairly."

There was almost a stutter in the woman's voice as she replied, "I-I should be able to do that." For the first time since Taylor had been ushered into her office, the woman looked defeated.

Principal Blackwell stared at Taylor as if she'd never seen her before. Then again, Taylor thought, she hadn't seen the new her. The one who had the memories of a pretty vicious SOB. Tony had verbally flayed alive more than one person in his day and compared to some of those beat downs, this was nothing.

Now that she'd won, Taylor just had to figure out a way to tell her father what had happened. She had a feeling he wasn't going to be too happy. Just how not happy he was going to be depended on how well Taylor was able to explain what had occurred and how it wasn't her fault.

And she was going to have to figure out what to do about the Protectorate, both short and long term. That Sophia had turned out to be a Ward only confirmed everything that she'd ever thought about them. Bullies and monsters filled their ranks. They needed to go down. Maybe, afterwards, some of the decent ones could be saved, once she figured out if any such animals actually existed. Unfortunately, those same bullies were going to have questions for her that she was going to have to answer before she could put this behind her. Questions that were going to take time away from more important things.

Taylor slowly got up from her seat and walked out, ignoring the requests of the person behind the desk to sit back down. She had too much to do to waste anymore time here. She needed to hurry home and integrate JARVIS, who was officially ten minutes overdue as of this moment. She needed to get with Trish to make a quick plan on how to deal with the Protectorate response. She needed to finish working on the various inventions for the meeting with the attorney. But first, and most importantly, Taylor needed to get to the girls' restroom to throw up. And quickly, as her stomach was heaving like the sea at the moment, intent upon regurgitating its contents all over her shoes.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Madeline Blackwell stared into space for several minutes, mulling over what had just happened. It was an unmitigated disaster. In the end, she doubted she'd get to keep her job, although there was a chance she could place the blame squarely onto the PRT and the Protectorate where it certainly belonged. Whether anyone would believe her remained to be seen.

It was just as well that she'd caved to Hebert's demands, which had been mostly minor. If Madeline had held out on principle, she'd likely be talking with the police right now. And the PRT wouldn't lift a finger once Sophia was back in their hands other than to pressure her into silence. Certainly they wouldn't have helped her. And Madeline knew she couldn't count on the silence and the support of the faculty, especially after that diatribe from Emma Barnes against them.

She heaved a sigh at the thought of the sheer amount of work that would be involved with developing a policy to prevent future bullying. And the cost for it, as well as sensitivity training for most of her teachers. Madeline had no idea where the money for all of that was going to come from. She would have to get extremely creative with the budget. Still, that might be the single thing that would allow her to keep her job, a proactive stance against such things. Especially once more people viewed the evidence online.

The video was beyond damning, the words, that amounted to confessions, said there by one of its central figures devastating. The threats by one of the others were even more problematic. But at least that one wasn't her problem. Not anymore.

Madeline slowly lifted the receiver for her phone and placed it to her ear. Dialing a number from memory, one that she'd at one time treasured knowing, took only a moment. Sadly, now her knowledge of it tasted like ashes in her mouth. It rang twice before being picked up. There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before a woman's voice brusquely said, "Director Piggot."

Madeline kept any tremors out of her voice, instead speaking briskly, "Director Piggot, Principal Blackwell of Winslow High here. I'm afraid there's been an incident involving Sophia Hess."

There was a sigh from the other end of the line. "How bad?"

Madeline shouldn't feel satisfaction, but it would take a better person that herself to avoid the emotion. At least she wasn't the only person who'd endure a sleepless night tonight. "Very bad. I'll direct you to a video that currently playing on Youtube. I'd watch it first. From there..."

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor walked the remaining distance from the bus stop to her house, her stomach finally mostly settled. It had been a rather epic hurling session in the girls' bathroom at school that was responsible for its current empty state. Now it just sat there, not doing much of anything. Still, Taylor was going to be careful what she ate for the next few hours as she wanted to avoid worshiping at the porcelain altar again anytime soon.

She entered her house through the back door and almost immediately ran into Trish in the kitchen. Taylor seized upon the distraction the other girl presented as a way to avoid thinking about the events of the morning. Studying the girl, she couldn't help smiling at the way the other girl's short dark hair gleamed as it surrounded her head in a pixie-like cut. Trish hadn't wasted any time getting her hair styled after Taylor's dye job and it now actually suited her quite well, the dark color going along with the pallor of her skin.

It was a pallor that was slowly dissipating as Trish was exposed to more and more sun as a result of being dragged along on Taylor's morning runs. The former blonde drew the line at learning to fight hand to hand, but at least she was willing to run with Taylor, a situation which her dad greeted with such relief that Taylor couldn't say no, even if she'd wanted to.

So Taylor now did her katas in the living room after returning home, which in retrospect was probably better than doing them in a public park, no matter how isolated. And she was getting good, as was demonstrated by how easily she'd taken down Sophia. Then again, they had been designed by Captain America to get the absolute maximum from a normal human physique. Which, sadly, Taylor possessed despite having Tony Stark's memories.

Taylor's idle thoughts were interrupted by Trish voice as she asked, "Are you hungry after a morning of taking tests? I made lunch." In the middle of the slightly inane chatter was an underlying tone of curiosity which asked a completely different question. One Taylor knew she eventually had to answer. 

Still, Taylor was struggling with the idea of even small talk after the events of this morning, let alone a deeper reveal, so she merely said, "Not really." She sighed. "Aren't you going to ask me if I passed my tests?"

Trish gave her a look of disbelief, then rolled her eyes. Her tone was flat and incurious as she asked, "Taylor, did you pass your tests?" No, all of Trish's curiosity was reserved for a different matter, one which they'd discussed ad nauseum for the last week or so as the testing date approached.

Taylor nodded, thinking it was better to just get it over with, like pulling off a band aid all at once. Taking a deep breath, she answered all questions, both spoken and not, "Yes. I did. Then I got into it with Emma and her bully buddies. The camera drone came in handy when I had to prove to the school principal that they started things. Oh, and it turns out that Sophia Hess is Shadow Stalker. She outed herself on the video I made of them bullying me. Which I uploaded to Youtube for the entire world to see. Uh, there might have been death and torture threats in there as well. I'd look it over online and then come talk to me. See ya."

Taylor turned around, ignoring the open mouth and unfocused stare of her friend, and headed downstairs to integrate JARVIS. She was now officially an hour late and that was an hour longer that she would have to do without his services. Hitting the button and watching the code compile was somewhat soothing. As was fixing a few minor recursive errors that had cropped up during this iteration. It gave Taylor a brief respite from thinking about how she was going to deal with the Protectorate response.

Taylor's calm was disrupted by the sound of a voice from behind her. "Taylor! You do not get to drop that on me and walk away! If I were using my ability more, that would have fried my brain. As it is, I can't help but see the various ways this is going to complicate things. In theory, that is. You know the PRT is going to be here by the end of the day. They're going to want to talk to you. What are you going to tell them?"

JARVIS was ready to go, so she reset parameters and made a couple of adjustments. He had started merrily chugging away at a new block of code by the time Taylor thought of a reply. She slowly spun in her chair and looked at her friend. Trish's eyes were gleaming in excitement and she clearly was enjoying the drama a whole lot more than Taylor was.

Taylor shrugged. "I'm going to tell them the truth. That I don't have a Corona Pollentia. That I'm not a Parahuman. Or rather, they'll tell _me._" Taylor smiled at the thought that part of her plans would be advanced with the help of the Protectorate. She continued, "That I'm not responsible for outing Shadow Stalker. That Sophia Hess is a complete psycho that they should never have allowed into the Wards. A psycho whose actions they're responsible for, not me. I'll tell them that if they don't leave me alone, my dad and I will sue them for a billion dollars. Instead of an Armsmaster action figure, I'll own the real suit by the time I'm done." Taylor gave Trish a hopeful look as the other girl seemed to consider her words, her eyes briefly distant.

Slowly, Trish's vulpine grin widened. "I think that they're going to fold."

Taylor stomach eased at the confirmation and she returned Trish's grin with one of her own. "That's reassuring. When are they coming?"

Trish shrugged. "They'll be here no later than four thirty. Sorry, but I can't be any more exact than that. Want me to tell your dad where you are?"

Taylor slowly nodded, her expression grim. "Please. I'll leave a note as well, but keep an eye on him if you would. I don't want him to be alone. And make sure he understands that unless I, or the PRT, call him, he's not to come looking for me. Well, unless I'm there longer than twenty-four hours." Again, there was an unspoken question in her words.

Trish actually had the gall to laugh. "Ha! Like _that's_ going to happen. They won't even bring a search warrant when they come for you. The pick up will be designed to intimidate you, not because they really think you've done anything wrong. They also try later to get you to sign a waiver absolving them of any wrongdoing as regards Shadow Stalker. Don't do it. It could be good leverage in the future. Damn, but I love how they're going to overlook you in the future after establishing that you're not a Parahuman." 

Taylor's look of surprise at at the other's perceptiveness drew another laugh. Taylor eyed her speculatively. "Yeah, there is that. You know, I really like your ability when it works for me. It's pretty cool."

Trish eyed her back. "I know, right? Of course, you know this is all just generalities built around hypothetical Taylor. I can't focus on your exact situation or it gets all migrainey, which isn't something I want to experience. Again that is."

Taylor nodded in sympathy, memories of a half-conscious Trish dealing with a migraine fresh in her mind. "I understand. It's good enough to me." She checked her stomach to find that the roiling had pretty much stopped and she was starting to feel hungry. "By the way, what did you make for lunch?"

Taylor frowned as Trish started laughing like a hyena in response to her question. She had been serious, after all.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~


	9. Chapter Nine—Memories of Innocence Lost

**Chapter Nine—Memories of Innocence Lost**

Armsmaster stepped off his high tech motorcycle and stared at the unassuming house before him. He gave a quick nod of acknowledgment to PRT officer next to him, who'd just stepped down from a van marked with their logo. He gestured for the man to accompany him.

Walking up the steps, Armsmaster noted the dichotomy of his surroundings versus the reason he was here. This was a normal, working class neighborhood, filled with normal, working class people. Absently, he noted that the repaired first step that led up to the front porch still had that new wood look to it. All in all, it added up to a neighborhood where people still had hope for the future, which they showed by taking care of the present.

It certainly wasn't the sort of place he would have expected to run into a potential Parahuman, one who had recently outed a cape, one of his Wards no less. He wasn't up on all of the specifics, having been pulled off a stake out, but he would be soon. Still, he had seen the video and it had been telling.

The girl had been just too strong, too bold in her confrontation with her supposed bullies, to not have a something in reserve, possibly a Parahuman ability. If so, it did speak well of her for not using that ability on the people who'd tormented her, not that she'd needed to the way she'd casually flayed them with her tongue. If not, she was at least interesting.

Armsmaster had a sneaking feeling that the director was planning to pressure the girl into signing a waiver, as well as joining the local Wards in the place of Sophia, who had already been taken into custody, if she turned out to be a Parahuman. Ordinarily, he would not have been in favor of either path, but having seen the strength of character she'd exhibited in the confrontation, any useful power would likely make the girl a more valuable member of the team than Hess had been.

More importantly, this was a time when they could ill afford to have the boundary between cape and human widened by a lawsuit and accusations of wrongdoing, no matter how correct those accusations might be. Moreover, despite the long-time bullying campaign and threats, he hadn't seen any proof that Sophia was involved in anything all that heinous. While they would do their due diligence in searching her things, Armsmaster seriously doubted that they'd find anything too incriminating there.

Still, after a mistake this major, she would have to finish her sentence in Juvie and wouldn't be out until well after her eighteenth birthday. After that, she could join the Protectorate if she wanted. Armsmaster hoped she would, although at this point, she seemed more a rogue than a hero. At least, he doubted she'd end up a villain.

He carefully knocked on the front door, and it opened less than thirty seconds later. The skinny teenage girl with the round glasses and the long dark curls running down her back that stood in front of him did not scream Parahuman. She actually didn't scream anything except ordinary.

However, there was a spark in her eyes and a certain strength in her voice as she greeted them that made him wonder. "Hello? Can I help you?"

"Taylor Hebert?"

"That's me."

"Miss Hebert, I need you to come with us in regards to a certain situation that arose from events from earlier today. I believe you know what I mean."

Her head tilted quizzically as certain amount of trepidation entered her eyes. "Am I under arrest?"

Armsmaster shook his head. "No. But I am afraid that the questioning is not optional. Also, is your father home?"

Her shrug was done stiffly. She muttered, "Sounds like arrest to me." Then louder, "No, he isn't. He's probably still at work. Let me leave a note for my dad so he knows where I'm going. Um... where am I going?"

"You'll be questioned at the Protectorate Headquarters out in the harbor."

"Okay. I'll be right back."

Taylor didn't shut the door behind her, almost as if she knew that they would react to that. Being able to hear her moving around inside, Armsmaster relaxed as much as he could. Less than three minutes later, the girl came back out and carefully locked the door behind her.

Armsmaster gestured for her to walk ahead of him and he followed her to the PRT van. After making sure she was buckled in, he followed her to the Protectorate. But already he was having doubts. Despite her confidence, he was starting to wonder if there was anything special about her.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Bored, Taylor looked around for the umpteenth time as she sat in the plain room. The only furnishings there were two chairs each on opposite sides of a small table with a large mirror on the wall opposite her. A small camera in the corner of where the wall met the ceiling was aimed at her face. According to Tony's memories and from watching a hundred shows and movies, it was a stereotypical interrogation room. And she'd been sitting here for nearly two hours wasting her time.

It was growing increasingly difficult not to dwell the earlier events. In her mind, Taylor had rehashed everything she'd done and said several times. It wasn't that she wouldn't have said and done the same things, rather that she couldn't understand why she wasn't more satisfied with the results.

Taylor had achieved most of the things she'd planned for today. Emma and Madison had been defeated, exposed for what they were. Sophia was in serious trouble with the PRT and the Protectorate. The teachers had had their noses rubbed in how foolish they'd been to take the trio's word over Taylor's. Taylor herself was going to be graduating early. And she'd managed to force the school to take a stand against bullying. So why did all of it feel like ashes in her mouth?

Taylor knew what Tony would say. Be careful what you wish for. Because you can never be sure that's what you really want. But she did want those things. Or maybe she just hadn't fully adjusted to the fact that she'd achieved some of her aims. Still, if this was her reaction to something so minor, how would she react if she did somehow manage to save the world?

Then again, how minor something was could be completely relative. The bullying had been a part of Taylor's life for a significant percentage of it. It had forced her to change, to mature. It had made what happened with Tony happen. Of that, Taylor was convinced. So having it be over was almost like dying in that a new chapter of her life was starting.

Taylor stared at her image in the mirror. Silently, she asked 'Is this me or you, Tony, with that bit of homespun wisdom?' Sadly, no one answered. Nor were there any hints in the deeper recesses of her mind. If Tony knew, he wasn't saying. Or rather, his memories didn't provide any answers.

Taylor silently shook her head. She wasn't going to dwell on this any longer. It was part of the past. Her stay, here and now, in this room, was part of the present and what she needed to worry about. It couldn't be much longer before they came for her. While she had a plan, Taylor still had her doubts. Even though the first part had gone without a hitch.

Partly in amusement and partly from frustration, Taylor smiled. She had to be truly bored to rehash this stuff. Now she was sitting in her uncomfortable chair, cooling her heels, and drinking her fifth cup of some truly awful coffee. Taylor had just started daydreaming about the high quality coffee she would keep on hand once she was rich again when she realized that she was channeling Tony again. She decided he picked the oddest times to pop up.

Then, maybe that wasn't the worst thing in the world as the door to her left finally opened and a older, heavyset woman came in. She tossed several manila folders onto the desk, all the while staring at Taylor. Taylor could feel her hackles rise as she met the woman's flat stare. Adversarial questioning, Tony seemed to whisper in her ear. The woman's tone was brisk as she sat down across from Taylor. "Miss Hebert, I am Director Emily Piggot, head of the PRT here in Brockton Bay. Do you know why you are here?"

Taylor had been wondering if they would wait for her dad to get here or if they would go ahead and start in, even though it wasn't legal. Actually, she'd counted on it, which was why she didn't want her dad here. Shrugging, Taylor decided that they could both be adversarial and picked a sarcastic answer. "Probably because you want to blame me for Sophia Hess going crazy and attacking me, then outing herself on video as Shadow Stalker."

Director Piggot scowled. "You are responsible, Miss Hebert. If you had not reacted so strongly and with such force, Miss Hess would have not felt like her life was in danger and reacted the way she did, thus putting herself, and her family, in danger by having her secret identity blown."

Taylor stared at the woman. How could the woman say that with a straight face, she wondered. Just another bully, she thought numbly. Was there any part of the PRT or Protectorate that was worth saving? Maybe, but she was beginning to have her doubts. She ignored a voice that seemed to whisper 'no' in her ear. Tony never believed in the goodness of people in power. He helped fuel her response. "That's pretty sad, you ignoring the fact that she planned to do far worse to me and only ended up where she did because she attacked me first. And there's the small matter of the death threats she made. Rather, death, torture, and dismemberment threats she made. I finally watched the video, you see. When it was all going down, I didn't hear much of what she was saying as I saw Emma as the greater danger. Boy was I wrong."

Director Piggot's eyes narrowed. "You cannot play the innocent here, Miss Hebert. Exposing the identity of a cape, especially a PRT cape is punishable by a term in prison of between ten and twenty years. Don't think your age will protect you. We have had experience in dealing with so-called juveniles before who end up being charged as adults."

Taylor deliberately rolled her eyes. "You really are an idiot, aren't you? Do you _want_ me to sue you? Everything you do just makes it harder and harder not to do everything within my power to destroy you." Okay, she thought in alarm, reign it in, Tony. Taylor didn't want to spend the night here or worse.

Director Piggot's mouth thinned with contempt. "Miss Hebert, you are not a Parahuman. We've already tested you. So I don't think we have too much to fear from you. Certainly not as far as you 'destroying' us."

Taylor shook her head ruefully. She decided to stop holding back. "You know, I always thought that the PRT and the Protectorate were above things like this. That they had a noble mission, saving the world from the S class threats. Stopping the Endbringers and groups like the Slaughterhouse Nine. But you're just as bad as they are. Just another bully. You, personally, are as much of a monster as Behemoth. Maybe worse. At least he would just kill me, instead of wasting time threatening me for having the sheer temerity to be a victim."

The director's mouth opened and closed a couple of times before she regained control over herself. It was clear that Taylor had surprised her. Not that you could tell by her next words. "That's rather disingenuous of you, Miss Hebert. Comparing heroes to villains. I'd say you have a rather skewed view of the world. Perhaps if you had both parents around, you would have a better ability to discern reality from your owned twisted point of view."

Taylor deliberately furrowed her brow as she considered the other's words. "Wow, was that supposed to be a shot? You want to compare heroes to villains? How many villains have spent the last year and a half bullying and tormenting a fifteen year old girl? Physically attacking her? That would be none. How many heroes have done the same. That would be one. Do you see the problem here? I get that you're trying to minimize the damage she's caused, but if you hadn't let her into the Wards in the first place, you wouldn't be fixing the damage."

"It might surprise you to realize that the PRT and the Wards are people, too. They contain flawed individuals that sometimes make mistakes. But they put their lives on the line every single day against the terrible threats of our time. So I would think you could be a little more understanding of that." The director's voice was cutting as she spoke, the contempt thick in her tone.

Taylor chose to follow her through the door she had just opened. "That would be a lot more effective defense if you didn't already know there was something wrong with her. There's no way this comes across as a surprise. I would guess that she was already in trouble when she was offered a place with the Wards. It was probably that or prison. A manslaughter charge? How close am I?"

Director Piggot bluffed, "There's no way you could know that."

"I looked her up on Parahumans dot net. Shadow Stalker was a rogue and a vigilante. Then she suddenly joins the Wards? A lot of people on the web thought there was something fishy about it. There was a lot of speculation on the older postings that she was using real bolts in that crossbow of hers. But I didn't know for sure I was right until just now when your expression told me I was."

Taylor spoke again before the director could. "Look, if you want to charge me, go ahead. I'll take my chances with a jury trial. It's not as if I'll ever have to work another day in my life when I collect all of the money from the various lawsuits I'll have going. You, on the other hand, will look even worse than you already do, charging a bullied teen who was only trying to defend herself, using the least amount of force possible against an evil Parahuman who verbally demonstrated a complete disrespect for life. At least mine, anyway. Besides, if you wanted to question me, shouldn't you have waited until my dad was here? Isn't this illegal? Just shows how weak your hand is if you have to resort to doing this instead of talking with us both."

There was more back and forth in the same vein for the next half hour, and Taylor was starting to get bored. Or maybe Tony was. She'd started baiting the director more and more as time went by until she thought the woman was going to come over the table after her. The one thing Taylor didn't do was cave. She even tore up the waiver that Director Piggot thrust at her a few minutes later with the simple directions, "Have your father sign it." Taylor scattered that trash to the winds, allowing Tony full reign to do so.

Finally, Director Piggot seemed to tire of their stalemated conversation. She abruptly stood and gathered her folders. She then walked out without another word. A few minutes later, Armsmaster came in and stood in front of her. Using his height to show dominance, she decided, almost hearing a whisper in the back of her mind.

Taylor craned her head back as she stared up at him. An old memory came to the fore. She sighed as she felt her face heat. Well, hopefully it would throw him off if nothing else. "You know, this would a lot less awkward if I didn't still have a couple of pairs of Armsmaster underwear at home."

Armsmaster didn't visibly react to her words and Taylor was left to examine his armor from just a few feet away. She was still feeling disappointed even as she got her second view of what was considered high tech on Earth Bet. Armsmaster's armor's miniaturization was... actually pretty damn decent, although Taylor thought she could do better if given sufficient time.

The biggest issue she had with Armsmaster's stuff was that the tech it was based on wasn't anything that special. He didn't even have independent power generation for his suit or halbard. Briefly, she flirted with the idea of what he might be able to do if given access to her tech, then dismissed the thought as nothing but a pipe dream. If she wouldn't let a friends like Reed or Bruce access to her tech, she certainly wasn't to allow someone who might just turn out to be an enemy to do so. Taylor shrugged the thought off and listened for Armsmaster's reply.

His deep voice was surprisingly flat considering the subject she'd just raised. "We don't always get that much input in how our images are licensed. I'm not exactly comfortable with my name being on someone's underwear, girls or boys."

Taylor mulled that over. He at least sounded like a hero, even if he was no Steve Rogers. "Did you come to cart me off to jail? Or tell me my dad's waiting outside?" That would put a perfect capper on the day, she thought moodily, wondering if Trish was wrong after all.

Armsmaster shook his head. "No, Miss Hebert, I came to let you know you're free to go and that we'll be taking you home. You won't be hearing from us again unless your family contacts us through an attorney during the process of bringing a lawsuit against the Protectorate."

Taylor sat there contemplatively, feeling more than a little surprised that her plan had worked despite Trish's earlier reassurances. Especially after being such a pain in the ass during her 'interview.' "You know, I don't want to sue anyone. I just want to be left alone. I doubt I'll even sue the school as long as they let me graduate early. And implement a anti-bullying plan."

"Miss Hebert, I do want to apologize for what has happened to you because of a member of the Wards behaving in a completely reprehensible manner. I know there's nothing I can say that can excuse her behavior. However, for our part, her presence in the Wards just made the rest of them just a little bit safer." Armsmaster's voice oozed sincerity as he spoke, every inch a leader of the Protectorate.

Taylor slowly frowned as she wondered if they thought she was really that stupid. "You know, that's a pretty good one two act the two of you have going for you. Director Piggot makes a great bad guy. And you make a pretty good tragic hero only trying to do his best for his team."

There was a moment of silence. Armsmaster's tone was dry when he finally replied, "It couldn't be that effective if you saw right through it."

Taylor shrugged. "I might be a bit more sensitive to something like this, having gone through what I have, than most people."

Armsmaster glanced back over his shoulder towards the mirrored wall. "They'll be relieved that you aren't planning to sue anyone. It's not exactly easy on the budget if we have to pay people off rather than use the money budgeted to us for PRT officers. Would you be willing to have your father sign a waiver to that effect?"

Taylor raised a silent eyebrow at him. He nodded back. "I didn't think so. Unless there's something else..."

"Armsmaster, there's just one thing I would like to say." At his silent nod, Taylor continued, trying to put her chaotic thoughts into words, "While I'm not going to sue you, if you keep this up, someone will. Just as importantly, they'll be right to do so. I don't think most of us begrudge someone deserving a second chance. As long as they're sincere and try. But Sophia Hess was anything but that. I don't for one moment believe that any of her teammates liked or respected her. That should have been your first clue. And I'd bet you that if you dig deep enough, you're going to find something that will make you wish you caught this sooner. Just do the right thing. Anyway, that's all I had to say. Sorry if I sounded pedantic." Crap! Maybe she should have used a word that didn't make her sound a hundred years old. Not that Armsmaster appeared to notice anything, she thought with relief.

Taylor got up and followed the PRT officer that had brought her in back out the door. Well, she was free every bit as fast as Trish had suggested she would be. Now Taylor just wished she had gotten Trish to give her a suggestion on how to deal with her dad.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Miss Militia stared at him as he walked into the conference room. She looked pained as she asked, "Did the director really need to go that hard core on a fifteen year old girl? Especially one who has had to deal with one of our own gone rogue. And without her father there! She had her in there for an hour and only stopped once you indicated over her ear-bud that Taylor Hebert wasn't going to change her stance."

Armsmaster grimaced. It had been a clusterfuck right from the get go. He hadn't detected a single lie that the teenage girl had told, even when she was basically telling Director Piggot off. She believed all of her arguments, although there had been some uncertainty involved when she'd said she would sue them. Still, he was wondering if they should have waited to talk to her until her father was present. Certainly he couldn't have been any harder to deal with.

Regardless, it appeared to have worked out. After having spoken to Taylor Hebert as well as listening in on Director's Piggot's interview , Armsmaster was fairly confident that she hadn't deliberately outed a member of the Wards. Nor that she would sue them. Not unless she was convinced by an outside party to do so. He truly believed she just wanted to get on with her life. "She was just playing her part. She moved early because our case was so weak. Anyway, I think the director actually liked that Hebert stood up to her. Did you get anything worrying from observing her?"

Miss Militia shook her head. "Nothing really new. We already knew she was tough. She's smart, but that much was obvious by her reference to testing out of school."

Armsmaster's head came around. "Her grades seem less than stellar from her records."

Miss Militia's tone was gentle as she pointed out something. "Taylor Hebert's been bullied since starting high school. And part of that campaign of bullying seemed to be aimed at making her fail out. Plus, I suspect that the stress of dealing with that even without the aim of making her fail would take a toll on her grades."

Armsmaster nodded. It made sense. Certainly a lot more than that the girl was some kind of unknown Thinker. "No Corona Pollentia, right?"

"Still no. They tested her downstairs. You can review the MRI images yourself if you want. But you won't find anything because she isn't a Parahuman." Miss Militia's voice grew contemplative. "I doubt Miss Hebert will ever trigger."

Armsmaster was puzzled. "Why is that?"

Miss Militia explained, "She's handled all of the things that have happened to her, from her mother's death, to a group of bullies led by her former best friend with a certain amount of aplomb. To what I said earlier about being tough, add brave and smart. She managed to organize someone to tape and upload a video of her getting attacked as soon as she returned from a suspension. While she clearly didn't expect that a Ward would be outed, she even handled that well, where most teens would be shaking in their shoes. She even managed to push for an anti-bullying policy change with a combative adult figure, which shows a strong adherence to a set of ethics. When we picked her up, she again was calm, and she dealt with both you and the director very well, even spotting your game. I can't imagine circumstances that would put enough stress on someone like that to give them a trigger event."

Armsmaster mulled over everything that Miss Militia had just said. He slowly spoke, "You make it sound like she's been thinking a step ahead of us right from the start. Almost like a seasoned agent."

Miss Militia shook her head. "Not really. I just think she thinks well on her feet. And the suspension thing must have been a bit of a wake up call, because she didn't just fall back into old patterns of passivity when she returned. But no, I don't think she's some kind of secret agent. Or spy."

She was probably right, Armsmaster decided. He even admired the girl for pushing for something to help protect others, even if he thought it would be rather futile in the end. Still, there was something just the slightest bit off about Taylor Hebert. He wasn't suspicious enough to waste time on surveillance of the girl, but he would drop back by at some point in the future to take another look at her. Armsmaster made a note in his electronic journal to that effect, then made his excuses to head back to his lab. After all, if you want to be the best, you need to work at it. And he needed to do a little more work on his staff, knowing he could miniaturize the grappling hook's hardware at least another seven percent, maybe eight if he pushed it.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Emily Piggot slowly sat down at her desk, her knees creaking before she took the weight off of them. She sighed in relief at the cessation of the dull, gnawing pain. She pulled her keyboard towards her, and once again viewed what was rapidly becoming the most notorious video in America.

Wincing more than once as she watched, Emily reviewed the notes she'd already taken. She would be passing them off to the spin doctors after this to see if they could make anything positive out of a public relations disaster. Emily didn't think it was exaggerating that the video online had set back image of the PRT and Protectorate by at least ten years.

It couldn't have come at a worse time. With the Endbringer attacks costing them so many heroes each time, the Protectorate could not afford anything that reduced its recruitment objectives. They needed every single hero they could get to keep humanity safe.

Now, instead of positive images that would help recruitment, they had to overcome an image so negative that it could cause longterm damage to that same recruitment. Not to mention the blow that had been struck against Human-Parahuman relations.

Certainly, it had confirmed all of Emily's own negative feelings towards capes, feelings that she had held since Ellisburg. That place had cost Emily her health and any peace of mind she would ever hope to possess when it came to Parahumans. Now she had to somehow repress those same feelings and work towards some solution that benefited the same people she feared and hated.

Sadly, it wasn't something she wanted to do. If Emily was given her druthers, she would have shaken Taylor Hebert's hand publicly and proclaimed her a hero. The girl's quick thinking and smart planning had garnered her admiration. Instead, Emily had been forced to attack her during her interview, trying to force her to absolve them of any wrongdoing in her case. She was actually relieved that she'd failed. Still, Emily had few doubts there would be a slow, protracted campaign in the media by the PRT to emphasize the young girl's immaturity and instability. Anything to give them even an ounce more of credibility while reducing hers. All in the name of protecting humanity.

Sometimes, Emily wondered if this was all worth it. If humanity was worth saving. Then she reread the report of the incident again, absently noting the small change that someone had highlighted in one page of the file where Hebert was pushing for an anti-bullying policy in her school. Emily sat up a little straighter after reading that.

There were people worth saving, Emily decided. People like Taylor Hebert. Even if they were just a handful, they helped redeem the rest. She would continue working on a solution for the rest of today and tomorrow. Maybe she'd even get an epiphany and figure out a way for the PRT to win that didn't leave a bitter taste in her mouth. Maybe.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Danny Hebert sat in an uncomfortable chair in the living room, positioned so that he could see the front door for when Taylor got home. It had been a long, tiring day, which was why he'd chosen to sit on something that wouldn't allow him to fall asleep in it.

Not that the worry he was feeling would allow it anyway. Danny was almost as terrified at the moment as he'd been when Taylor first revealed that she was some kind of Parahuman. Some kind because she apparently was not a normal one. Her abilities came from her memories and did not seem linked to having some weird extra lobe in her brain.

Although, technically, it was more than just memories that was fueling Taylor's inventiveness. Along with the memories, she'd had a leap in intellect that was nothing short of astounding. Her IQ could not be measured by any standard type of testing as he'd learned to his chagrin when he'd tried to test Taylor early on after learning about what had happened to her.

Taylor's ability to solve problems was off the charts and she was already coming up with different solutions to problems than the man whose memories she shared. At least according to her she was. It was all part and parcel of the person his daughter was becoming. And therein lay the problem.

Danny trusted his daughter, but all of this was a lot to take in. He'd even worked on plans with her to help her build the company that she imagined would be necessary to save the world. Then something like this happened and he was hit anew with how dangerous this all was. How much his daughter had changed. Now Danny felt rudderless and adrift on a dark, dangerous sea.

How could he keep his daughter safe when the greatest safeguards of their world for people like her couldn't be trusted? When the Protectorate was filled with psychos like the girl who had made Taylor's life a living hell for a year and a half? How could any parent trust such a group to keep their child safe? Danny knew he couldn't. He could only trust the memories of an over forty playboy, who was, in every way that counted, exactly the opposite of what every parent wanted their child to become.

His depressing thoughts were interrupted by a quiet voice. "Mr Hebert?"

Danny's reply was automatic, "Call me Danny, Trish. Unless you've done something that needs a 'Mr Hebert.'" He slowly turned to look at the girl.

Trish stood there, clearly nervous, something that looked unnatural on the girl as she was usually so self-possessed. Then she explained, "It's my fault that Taylor went the route that she did. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."

Danny wearily shook his head. "It's not your fault. I assume she asked for your help?" At the other's nod, he sighed. "Then you did exactly what I wanted you to do. Please continue helping my daughter, Trish. Because I already know that she's going to do whatever she wants regardless. At least if you help with her plans, there's a better chance she'll come out fine afterward."

Trish's nod was tentative. "She's going to be okay, you know. I promise. I actually expect her to be home within the hour."

Danny shook his head. The girl was uncanny. "How do you know that? I thought your ability doesn't really work on her?"

Trish shrugged. "It doesn't, but I can intuit certain things by building theoretical models. If I try to insert Taylor into them, it's instant migraine. But so long as I keep it theoretical, I'm okay."

Danny sagged, wanting to believe her, but unable to with so little to go on. "So you can predict how things would turn out for the average person, but not for someone like Taylor?" Danny tried not to let his bitterness show at what was only a small disappointment. Trish didn't deserve that after all her help.

Trish seemed to read his mind and her smile was reassuring. "It'd be more accurate to say that I can predict how things would turn out for someone with an uncanny resemblance to Taylor, just not Taylor herself. So they can be pretty accurate because of how well I know her. You can trust them."

Danny felt a sense of relief at Trish's words as they melted some of the ice squeezing his heart. He continued to chat with Trish, who he finally coaxed into taking a seat, learning a bit more here and there about her ability as he let her distract him from his worry for Taylor.

Then he heard the sound of a key in the front door lock. Taylor had started using it more after he'd fixed the front step, which he viewed as a reward of sorts for the time he'd spent doing so. Danny slowly stood as his daughter came through the door, looking her over carefully.

More than anything, Danny decided Taylor looked tired. It had been a long and busy day on what was probably very little sleep, full of lots of ups and downs. After all, he had seen the video of her confrontation with the trio as well. He could only imagine how difficult that had been for her, especially the cracks about her mother.

In a lot of ways, the person in that video didn't resemble the Taylor he'd known all of these years. But Danny had experienced the person his daughter was becoming enough now to see her as the person in that video. The worst thing she'd exhibited had been a kind of hardness, a coldness that his Taylor didn't really have. Danny had winced at the things Taylor had said to Madison about her mother, memories of the accident still present in his mind even after all this time.

Now staring at the girl who looked afraid to meet his eyes, Danny didn't see any of that. All he saw was his little girl, the one who had so recently begged for his help. That was the Taylor to which he opened his arms wide. That was the Taylor he hugged so desperately, drawing as much comfort from the embrace as he gave in return.

Danny sent a look over his shoulder towards the other girl who had kept him company for the past hour. Who cared enough to try to distract him from his worries. He spread an arm out from around Taylor to make room for her. Then he waited as the girl in question chewed her lip in indecision. Finally, she seemed to leap forward and he closed his arm around both his girls, as they hugged him and one another as well.

Danny closed his eyes and said a silent prayer of thankfulness to God for the safe return of his daughter.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

**AN: ** I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, especially some of the reactions of the members of the PRT and Protectorate. In the next chapter, you'll hear from the Wards and of course more Taylor.


	10. Chapter Ten—Requiem for a Friend

**Chapter Ten—Requiem for a Friend**

**AN:** I hate putting up another one of these, but I need to. I had to make some changes to Chapters 7, 8, and 9 in order to fix some inconsistencies. The overall story has not been changed, but I made some mistakes regarding how the world works. The changes fix most of these. Any of the rest, I think we'll just chalk that up to an AU. By the way, this chapter got a little out of hand as I tried to cram into it a lot of what's going on. That's one reason you'll all have to wait until next chapter to hear about what happens to Emma and Sophia. Now onto the story.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor yawned as she got out of bed. She read the alarm clock. Eight am. Wow, but she'd really slept in. When she'd gotten home last night, she'd been exhausted. After a brief visit with her dad and Trish, she'd integrated JARVIS, then headed to bed. After doing him again at four am, Taylor had gone back to bed rather than stay up as had been her wont the last couple of weeks.

Now Taylor was feeling pretty chipper and needed to go on what was for her a late run. She had plenty of time before JARVIS needed her again. So she was up and in search of Trish.

Taylor found the girl in the den working on her computer. One of the first things that Taylor had done for Trish was to put together a desktop with an operating system for her to use for researching. Using the wifi network decoder that she had cobbled together from an old cell phone and a few other parts, Trish was free to spend as much time surfing the net as she wanted, with no costs being accrued. Instead, she leeched off of all of the neighbors within a quarter-mile range, the decoder combining the signals allowing maximum surfing speeds. Something similar was hooked up to JARVIS to allow him to realize his potential. Taylor made a mental note to fix that once they sold her first inventions. She didn't want to be someone who leeched off of other people or companies.

"Ready for a run?" 

Trish hid her wince as she turned, but it didn't fool Taylor. "Look, if you don't want to go..."

Trish jumped out of her chair. "No. Let me go get changed." She stopped as she caught Taylor's hesitant expression. "I really like running. I didn't think I would, but I do. So give me five minutes, 'kay?"

Taylor nodded and the other girl trotted upstairs to change. She idly walked around the room and stopped in front of the Trish's computer. She cocked her head at the screen full of butterflies fluttering around randomly. Then Taylor dismissed the screen saver by moving the mouse and stopped, arrested by the headline on the web page in front of her.

"Bullied Local Girl To Sue School"

Oh no. Taylor sat down and started reading. Everything there was all wrong. She was being painted as a victim, and maybe she was to some extent. But she wasn't disturbed by the bullying, as one website indicated. Nor was she borderline schizo, as another said she was. A third proclaimed her a hero. All in all, It was as maddening as it was inaccurate.

Taylor sat back, stunned by the sheer volume of crap about her on the web that day. No wonder Trish had winced when she walked up. She'd know Taylor wouldn't like this one little bit.

"So you've seen it?"

Taylor turned around upon hearing the voice. Trish was giving her a cautious look. Sighing heavily, she said, "Yes. What's wrong with these people? Don't they have anything better to do than to worry about my life?"

Trish shrugged. "Doubtful. Don't worry, though, you'll be off the front page before you know it. As soon as some cape somewhere does something, they'll forget all about you. Besides, Shadow Stalker has it so much worse than you do."

"If you say so."

"I do. So let's run."

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor running alongside Trish was just hitting her second wind as they finished rounding the end of the Boardwalk. There was a good burn going on in her legs, and the sensation of air pumping in and out of her lungs made her feel alive. The two of them had just finished circling around to head back when Taylor saw a police officer ahead of them flagging them down.

Both of them stopped, waiting, as the uniformed officer jogged up panting, his face red as a beet. "Girls, I've been trying to get your attention for the last couple of hundred yards."

It was Trish who spoke up. "Sorry, officer... ahh?"

The man, likely in his mid thirties with a midsection slowly turning to fat, was still panting as he said, "Officer Simpson."

Taylor wanted to shake her head at the big smile that Trish wore. Currently, she was being all sunny and polite as she probably intuited that was what would work best with the officer. Trish really was too good at manipulating people. "Nice to meet you, Officer Simpson. Is there something you needed?"

He straightened up fully, apparently finally getting his breathing under control. "I want your names and why the two of you aren't in school."

Trish shrugged. "Trish Rogers. I've got my GED and Taylor here is going to be testing out of school on Friday. So neither of us are currently attending classes."

The officer's eyes sharpened. "Taylor _Hebert?"_

Taylor nodded. "That's me. Err... did I do something wrong?"

Officer Simpson shook his head. "No, you didn't. I remember your name from that video on Youtube. No wonder you looked familiar." At Taylor's chagrined look, he continued, "Yes, I've seen it. Pretty much the whole department has. There's a lot of speculation among us about you. Whether or not you should press charges against them. Especially those other two girls. And that damn school of yours. I've got friends who've got kids who go there. They weren't too happy to hear what's happening at Winslow."

Taylor felt her jaw drop. She tried her best to get herself back together after this impromptu confrontation. "Err... I'm not planning on pressing charges against anyone. Or suing anyone. And I think the PRT is going to be dealing with Shadow Stalker. At least that's the impression they gave me last night."

The officer shook his head in disgust. "Yeah, considering they took over the investigation, they can do whatever they want. Likely, you won't hear anything else about it again. They don't want the bad publicity."

Taylor didn't know what to say. She settled on a simple, "Okay."

Officer Simpson's voice was surprisingly tentative as he said, "A lot of folks think what you did, taking her and her cronies on that like, was pretty damn heroic." He met her gaze firmly as he spoke.

Taylor's eyes widened and she quickly shook her head in denial. "I'm not a hero. I was just tired of dealing with them. And I'd had a month to figure out a plan to take care of them. I just wasn't expecting the locker... That was pretty ugly." 

He smiled back at her in reassurance. "That was smart using the zip tie. You were able to secure Shadow Stalker and no one could accuse you of undue force. You know, you could do well as a member of the police force."

Taylor met Officer Simpson's eyes and saw an unusual emotion from an adult. Respect. Tentatively, she smiled back. "Thank you very much, Officer Simpson. I appreciate that."

He waved her off. "Go finish your run. And don't forget you can apply to the Academy when you turn eighteen."

Taylor nodded and took off, aware of Trish moving at her side. She glanced over at the other girl and saw the smirk on her face.

Trish mouthed, "Cop."

Taylor shrugged in return. She hadn't minded the police officer's recognition, coupled as it was with a rare feeling of respect. Then she had a thought. Puffing a little as she had started to push the pace, Taylor asked, "Did you see him running after us earlier?"

Trish's vulpine grin was all the answer she needed. For a moment, it was all Taylor could do to run, she was laughing so hard.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor stared at the data. She'd been doing a partial work up using Societal Dynamics, an invention of Reed's, on Earth Bet. It had been just to reassure herself that there weren't any other bombshells waiting on the horizon here to trip her up. The problem was, things weren't adding up. There wasn't even the slightest hint of another danger on the horizon that could end the human race. Nothing other than the Endbringers threatened them and she believed that once she got production up, she could deal with them.

So why was there a tiny voice inside of her screaming that it was time to run?

The answers were in the math. They had to be. Unless they weren't. Tony had run into too many psychics and precogs during his time as a hero to dismiss a hunch or even a dream as a possible source for a solution. Even beings that were as gods compared to humans gave the occasional hint, the merest nudge in the right direction.

Is that what this is, she wondered? Or have Tony's memories finally driven her over the border from quirky and eccentric, into crazy and psychotic? Because the question that was niggling at her brain wouldn't seem to go away.

All right, fine. Time to approach the problem from a different direction. Taylor would ask for help. As busy as Trish was, she'd have time for this. Taylor might even tell her what it was for. Eventually.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Missy slowly walked into the ready room, the most depressed feeling of her relatively short life weighing her down. Certainly more so than even when she'd realized that Gallant knew how she felt about him as a result of his power. As humiliating as that had been, this was worse. In the corner she saw Chris working on something on a PAD, his head down. It was probably something Tinker-tech for his alter ego, Kid Win. Unfortunately, the others present weren't her first choice of people to hang out with.

Like the one who started speaking, "What's happening, short stuff?"

Missy rolled her eyes at the sound of her most irreverent teammate's voice. "I asked you not to call me that, Dennis."

Dennis merely grinned at her, not even remotely fazed by her bad mood. Then again, he needed that kind of chutzpah to call himself Clockblocker. "Sorry about that. I'll try to remember in the future." His expression made it clear he really wouldn't. "By the way, why the long face? Didn't you hear? We're celebrating No More Sophia Day. They're talking about making it a city-wide holiday. You can help me make a banner for the parade."

"Dennis! That's completely out of line."

Both teens turned to see their team leader, Carlos, standing behind them, a foreboding look upon his face. Missy wondered if Ward leaders like Aegis practiced that look in the mirror to make it more intense. Carlos' gaze traveled from Missy's mournful expression to the smirk that Dennis currently wore. "This isn't the time for this kind of comedy. What's going on with Sophia is serious." His voice dropped to a whisper, "I heard they found lethal ammunition in her personal belongings."

Dennis shrugged. "I know, that's why I'm glad. It means she's going down. If you only knew how many times I wished that I didn't have her backing me up. Guess what, my wish came true. Maybe I should clap for the fairies."

"At the cost of Sophia's freedom and a young girl's peace of mind plus who knows how much more damage." Carlos' sharp rejoinder hit hard. Even Dennis looked momentarily taken aback before a familiar mulish look settled upon his face.

Listening to the two of them verbally slug it out, Missy felt her heart almost break. "Stop it! This isn't helping! Why can't you both just get along?"

Carlos was the first to respond, "I'm sorry, Missy. I know this is a difficult time for all of us. Sophia-"

"I'm glad she's gone." Missy's outburst momentarily startled the two boys. She gave them both an angry look, her earlier melancholy retreating. "Sophia was nothing but mean to me. She made fun of me and mocked the things I liked as if they had no value." Her voice lowered in volume as she murmured, "I don't like feeling ashamed of who I am. Of being Vista. But she made me feel that way. As if I had no value to the Wards because I didn't want to hurt people."

Dennis stepped up to her, putting a comforting arm around her. "Missy, feeling angry at Sophia is natural. Hell, I hated the bi... err... girl. She was pretty much as you described her. Plus she didn't make me feel like she'd back me up if I really needed her."

Missy turned her eyes towards the door as another voice sounded off, "You can say that again."

It was Dean, the aforementioned object her of her younger self's crush. Missy tried to ignore the fact that her heart still beat just a little faster at the sight of him. Dean continued, "I try not to say anything bad about anyone. And I get along with almost everybody. Except her. I'm glad she's gone as well. Hell, I'd rather have one of those crazy Texas Wards, like that girl with the raccoons, than Sophia helping me out. At least she looks dependable." It was almost shocking to hear Dean say that, as he usually behaved just as his namesake, Gallant. It took a lot to push him to this point.

Missy could hear the censure in Carlos' tone as he said, "Dean, this isn't the time or the place for this discussion. We-"

"Carlos, what would the be time and place for this discussion? We're all here. I say we talk about it." Chris, who had kept his head down until now, finally weighed in. His gaze was sharp enough that it seemed to spear each of them. "I hated Sophia. She called me a dummy because of my dyscalculia. I was in all ways smarter than her, but she called me stupid. I. Am. Not. Stupid. Screw the bitch. I'm glad she's gone."

Missy noted the helpless look on Carlos' face as he stood there. It was usually Gallant who kept arguments from getting this heated. Who intervened to calm things down. Now his was one of the voices that pushed those selfsame arguments. Carlos didn't seem to know how to handle the turn of events.

Shrugging off Dennis' arm, Missy walked over and took Carlos' hand, holding it between both of hers. The tall youth gave her an uncertain look as she squeezed his hand and smiled up at him. "It's going to be okay. I think... I think we all needed to get this off our chests. Admit that the guys upstairs made a mistake putting Sophia in the Wards. She was never a good fit. It finally feels like I can breath again."

Carlos gave a thoughtful look around at all of his teammates. Finally, he nodded in agreement. "I didn't like Sophia. She broke the rules, not to try to help people, but because she was selfish. I'm glad she's gone. I think we'll be stronger without her."

Missy's relieved smile got lost in all of the rest of the team's. She let go of Carlos' hand as the other boys crowded around him, slapping him on the back and doing typical boy things, from whistles to whoops. Wistfully, she wished there was another girl who wasn't Sophia in the group to talk to sometimes. Looking over the smiling faces around her, Missy decided she could live without that other girl so long as everyone could always be this happy.

Missy stepped forward to get her own backslaps and whoops in.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor heard the knocking all the way from the basement. She wondered who that could be. Walking upstairs to the bottom floor only took a moment, then she heading towards the front door. She was only a few feet away when she was intercepted by Trish, who put a finger to her lips as she steered Taylor towards the den.

Once there, Trish spoke before Taylor could even ask, "It's the press. Whatever you do, don't answer the door for the next couple of days."

Taylor stared at the other girl, her eyes huge. "What's going on? I thought you said it would be over in a few days."

Trish chewed her lip a moment before answering. "Apparently, your principal let slip to a reporter that you aren't going to sue the school but that they are going to have to put in place an anti-bullying policy as part of an agreement with you not to. Anyway, a local ABC affiliate picked up the story, then the rest of the local stations ran it. Finally, it kinda went national when CNN ran the story. Congratulation, Taylor, you're a national hero. Kidding. Mostly."

Taylor sat down as suddenly shaky legs could not support her weight. She silently glared at Trish as the other couldn't seem to stop smiling. What the hell was she going to do about this now?

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor smiled in satisfaction as she finished up the last of the circuits for the Plastics Converter. Now she just needed to button everything up and she was done. That took only a moment, and now it was ready to go. Not bad, considering the distractions of the last few days.

The device sat there, a simple metal cube thirty inches on a side. There was a large hopper attached to one side, that allowed the depositing of vegetable matter. On the side opposite from it, there was a smaller opening, only one inch high by fourteen inches wide, from which plastic sheets of varying thickness would extrude. On the side perpendicular to them was a small chute extending away from the unit for waste to exit from. Waste that was mostly cellulose and still edible for animals, containing a few nutrients. A very simple keypad control system with a small LCD screen sat on top, close to the side opposite the waste chute.

The metal containers for the various things she was building had been machined over at the Dockworkers Union's machine shop out of salvaged metal from the Ship Graveyard. They had done a surprisingly good job and it hadn't cost much of anything as the guy who did it was apparently bored and just happy for something to do. Her dad had salvaged the stainless steel that was used to machine the various panels and interior components. Taylor needed to remember to give him another hug for all of his help.

Deciding to test things, Taylor plugged the device into the house's power supply. This test unit was small enough to be able to use ordinary one hundred and ten volt AC power. She then hit the button on top marked 'Receive.' Taylor grabbed six ears of corn and a double handful of saw grass, dropping them into the hopper. She listened as they were mulched, then processed by the equipment inside. Two minutes later, a green light began to glow on the control panel and she hit a button marked 'Extrusion.'

Almost immediately a hum began and from the fourteen inch wide opening on the left, a piece of semi-transparent plastic sheeting began to extrude. When finished, it was fourteen inches wide by a half inch thick and six inches long. Taylor carefully bent it and smiled at the characteristic flexibility of plastic.

Taylor set it down next to the machine. She would test it later to see if there was any problems or deviations from the desired results. Not that she expected any. This wasn't the first such device she... _Tony_ had built, after all. It wasn't that complicated a piece of equipment, depending more on an understanding of how chemicals acted under the effects of certain catalysts, than anything else.

She moved over to the next item on her agenda, the Solar-Powered Water Purifier. It was a simple metal box only a foot square by six inches high. It was featureless except for simple input and output hoses, a button with three settings, and a power input receptacle.

Oddly, this had turned out to be a far more complicated item than the plastics converter, not because of the water purification aspect, but rather because Taylor had designed and built her own solar cell to power things. In front of her lay a mostly completed unit, needing only the soft, flexible solar panel which lay to one side to be complete.

Taylor had had a few issues with that, not because of the complexity, but rather the lack of resources she had at her disposal. Tony's memories did not have a solution to building a solar panel that could be completed without a full lab at his disposal, but she had figured out a solution on her own. It had turned out to be simpler than she'd ever imagined. And something that he had never built during his lifetime.

Not that Taylor didn't think that Tony Stark couldn't have done the same thing if he had wanted, or needed, to. After all, he had built an incredible set of armor in a cave out of what was basically junk. He'd just never had the desire to redesign a solar cell to use less expensive and complex components before.

The solar panel that Taylor had designed would definitely add to the ease of using clean energy. On its own, it could act as a fourth item to sell. The new solar panel could be built for less than ten percent of the cost of the ones currently being manufactured, while producing three times the energy output and having five times the life expectancy. In a sunny climate, cover a quarter of the roof of any home with them and you wouldn't need a Catalytic Water Converter. They would provide all of the energy you'd need.

Her own research had given tantalizing glimpses into a couple of other solar panels being built by Tinkers for their own use that were even more power efficient, but the details were sketchy on them. Certainly they weren't being manufactured for public use, likely because of the complexity and maintenance issues so much of Tinker-tech ran into. Taylor wished she could get her hands on the specs, because she was fairly certain she could either reproduce them, or worst case, redesign them.

Taylor would finish testing the Water Purifier tomorrow as it was almost time for dinner. She moved over to the final item on her list for a quick check. The Catalytic Water Converter was less than half complete. It was likely Taylor wouldn't have it done until the middle of next week, but that would still be plenty of time for their meeting on the following Monday with their prospective attorney.

Taylor smiled as she thought about that meeting. Thankfully, Trish would be coming with her to carry on the bulk of the conversation. Her shyness still cropped up at the most awkward times and the last thing Taylor wanted was to freeze up in the middle of a question. Trish would be able to deal with the business aspects of the meeting, leaving the technical explanations to Taylor. It seemed like a perfect partnership to Taylor, even as she ignored Tony's voice which cried 'Blasphemy.' But then again, he'd always been a bit of a showboat.

All Taylor had to do was finish up the items to be presented as well as JARVIS. Oh and pass her tests tomorrow. And somehow avoid the press. What did it say about her that of the three things, avoiding the press was the one she was most worried about?

It was because she had to return to Winslow High and she had no idea how she was going to stay away from them when out in public. So far she hadn't encountered them on her six am runs, but it was only a matter of time. They were still intermittently staking out her house, if only for a few hours at a time. But the school was different, being a public building. Taylor did know they couldn't come onto the grounds to harass her, but they could wait outside and ambush her coming or going. So she would need to be extra careful there.

Taylor had spoken to Principal Blackwell once since Monday, and that had been mostly to confirm the time and date. She had asked about the anti-bullying policy and had been assured that Arcadia had already been contacted and that they were well on the way to having it all planned out. Principal Blackwell had been evasive about the whole press incident, but Taylor hadn't needed Trish to figure out her angle. The principal was covering her own ass. She obviously thought that if it was already out in the public domain that Taylor was a hero, it would be that much harder for her to renege on her verbal promise not to sue.

Not that Taylor had intended to anyway, but she didn't like the implied pressure. Plus, she had no idea how people were going to react to what had happened. She didn't know what, if anything, had happened to her bullies, other than Sophia, who, according to an official Protectorate press release, had been sent to serve the remainder of her sentence at a undisclosed juvenile facility. As it was, the press release had been buried so deeply in amongst of other news items that it had taken one of the dedicated (read crazy) posters from Parahumans dot net to ferret it out. Other than that, they were being remarkably closemouthed about the entire thing. Even more so than usual.

Taylor didn't think that Emma would go after her again, but the uncertainty gnawed at her. The only saving grace was that it would be the last time she set foot in that place, as she could likely review the bullying policy through emails. Principal Blackwell had told her that so long as she performed even close to as well as she had done on her midterms, she would easily pass her early exit exams. She had even assured Taylor that she would be receiving her diploma immediately after finishing the tests as a courtesy, instead of having it mailed to her after it was proved that she'd passed.

Taylor could smell a bribe when one was being offered, but decided to take it anyway since she wasn't planning to sue them. She could have made a fuss, but the reality was, she would easily cruise through the tests tomorrow. The only things she would miss would be things she did not want to get right.

Taylor actually did plan to miss approximately ten percent of the questions on each test. The last thing she wanted was to provide a easy pathway for someone to find out about her heightened intellect. So rather than cruise through the tests like a genius, Taylor would merely do as well as someone extremely bright would.

It had been Trish's suggestion and a good one at that. Not that Taylor thought she would be in any danger, but just as they had done with the household power, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Thinking about Trish made Taylor remember a certain idea that had occurred to her a week ago, seeing the other girl fighting one of her migraines, brought on by overuse of her power. QT seemed like the perfect solution. And it wouldn't even be that hard to synthesize, easily producible even on the primitive hardware in her basement.

Taylor sighed as another problem was solved. Now if she could just solve tomorrow.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Greg waited, his armpits damp with nervous perspiration as he thought about the person he hoped would soon be coming by.

Taylor had surprised everyone when she had returned on Monday and taken down the three bullies who had been making her life hell. And at times, his as well, Greg had to admit. But the thing was, Taylor had kicked their asses, something which he had never expected in a million years.

Now he was waiting for her to talk about that, and the video, and how he felt about her. Just as he had been every day since the revelations from Monday.

Greg had never been good with girls, acting pretty much like a spaz anytime he was around one that attracted him. He was probably more relaxed around Taylor than anyone else. Likely it was because he hadn't really considered her pretty.

Taylor was smart, and had a certain air of self-sufficiency that Greg had always liked. What he hadn't cared for were her physical looks. Then he had seen her that morning, walking up in skintight jeans and a stomach baring top. And Greg had re-evaluated everything he had ever felt about one Taylor Hebert.

She had been... Greg wasn't sure that pretty was the word, but attractive could be it. And the way she had taken down Sophia on the video. Then she had stood up to the other two, her wit as evident as her biting tone. That had been incredibly attractive.

Greg wasn't sure why Taylor hadn't been to school in the intervening time since Monday, but he was sure she had her reasons. However, he had it on good authority that she would be in today. Mrs Knott had dropped that revelation yesterday when he had asked her again if she'd heard anything from Taylor.

Greg wasn't sure why the teacher had had such a tight smile on her face, but he figured it must have something to do with the rumors he heard that Taylor was planning to sue the school. Everybody was saying that she was going to end up rich and would never have to work a day for the rest of her life if she didn't want to. There were so many possible defendants to be named in the lawsuit that Taylor would definitely end up banking. Pretty much everyone was convinced of this despite the bomb the school had dropped at a press conference saying that they had convinced Taylor not to sue.

Greg figured it could go either way. He thought she would be a fool not to sue, but Taylor was great that way. That's exactly what he had told the news reporter who had briefly interviewed him after school on Wednesday. He'd also said that Taylor was definitely going places. They'd even played Greg's bit over the local station, which he hoped that Taylor had seen.

Greg also hoped that she would understand how he felt and not forget about him now that she was hitting it big. After all, he had helped her a few times during her social isolation by talking to her. And now that he had feelings for her, he wanted some of her good fortune to spill over onto him.

His thoughts ground to a halt as Greg spotted the person he had been waiting for striding up the walk towards the school.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor could barely keep herself from pulling on the hem of the skirt she was wearing, absurdly conscious of how short it was, even on her mid five foot frame. That, coupled with the amount of her stomach that was showing, made her want to do an about face and head home to change. Furtively, she glanced around, wary of reporters after the past few days.

It was Trish who had talked her into one more showing of the 'new' Taylor. She had said that Taylor owed it to herself to leave on a high note, showing them the person that they would not be seeing again. Taylor wasn't so sure about that, but she'd allowed herself to be persuaded and now here she was, wearing clothes that she'd sworn she would not.

Oh well, Taylor thought, it'll be over in a few hours. Then she could go home and never come back here again. Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice calling her name.

"Taylor! Taylor! Over here!"

Taylor glanced over her shoulder to see one of her classmates, Greg, approaching. He was okay, she supposed. Greg was smarter than most of the students, but so scattered in his focus that you would never know it. He also had a habit of saying whatever was on his mind, as if there was no filter between his brain and mouth. It was almost like a stream of consciousness thing. 

Greg's only other saving grace was that he'd never participated in bullying her, or even laughing about it. Still, Taylor wasn't exactly overjoyed to see him. "Hey, Greg."

His eyes seemed to be roaming everywhere, lingering on the bare skin of her stomach, making Taylor more and more self-conscious. In defense, she clutched her backpack to her chest. "It's good to see you back in school. I wanted to talk to you. Do you think you'll have time in computer class to chat with me? I've already got the project done. I can let you use mine as a basis for your own. That way you'll have time to talk. What do you think?"

Taylor could barely make heads or tails of Greg's train of thought, but finally answered, "Actually, Greg, I'm not here to go to class. I'm taking the exit tests to get my diploma early. If everything works out, this will be my last day."

His face crumpled. "What? You're leaving? But you can't. I need to talk to you. How about we meet up after school? I know this great burger place. I'll buy you lunch. Err... dinner. I'll-"

Taylor held up a hand. "I don't think I'll be here then." As Greg opened his mouth to talk to her yet again, Taylor decided to head him off. "How about we talk at lunch? I'll probably be done by then and heading home after. Sound good?"

Greg nodded vigorously. Taylor walked off before he could say anything else to her. Or look at her anymore. The last thing she needed was to have to deal with his particular form of madness at the moment. She was far too busy watching out for reporters and Emma, not sure at the moment which was worse.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor heaved a sigh of relief. She was done. No more school. And she'd scored pretty much exactly what she'd wanted, a solid ninety percent across the board. All she had to do now was pick up her diploma and have a quick meeting with Greg.

Fortunately, Taylor had seen neither hide nor hair of either Emma or Madison. She hadn't asked the unfamiliar teacher proctoring her exams about them, nor had he volunteered. He clearly had heard about her or seen the video as he'd spent an inordinate amount of time staring at her during the exams. It had been about a six on the creepy scale, outperforming Greg's earlier five. Taylor definitely wasn't sorry to leave him and the room behind her.

Getting her diploma was as simple as picking it up from the school secretary. Taylor never even saw Principal Blackwell, although there was a manila folder for her with an outline of a plan to be implemented within the next sixty days once it passed the school district's legal department. A quick glance showed that it had been taken pretty much verbatim from the one at Arcadia, which was fine as that school had one of the best policies in the country regarding bullying.

Taylor was walking to meet up with Greg when an unexpected snag presented itself to her in the form of Mrs Reese, who waylaid her as she headed down the hallway towards the cafeteria. The teacher was standing there nervously wringing her hands together as she approached. She almost didn't stop, but the woman so clearly wanted to talk to her that Taylor couldn't bring herself to completely ignore her.

"Taylor?"

"Mrs Reese." Taylor couldn't help the slight frostiness that colored her voice. She wondered if it would be any consolation to the other woman to know that she was just as nervous about this impromptu meeting.

"Taylor, I just wanted to say how sorry I am about accusing you of cheating. I should never have believed those girls. I-"

Taylor interrupted her. "You don't have to apologize. Maybe you shouldn't have believed them. But they were really good at manipulating people. And I guess Sophia must have gotten the test they planted on me as Shadow Stalker. Just reached in and took it."

Mrs Reese's eyes were shiny with unshed tears. "I do have to apologize. I've never done anything like that in my fourteen years of teaching. Never made a mistake like that. I knew you had problems with them, too. They didn't act up much in my class, but I heard things in the teachers' lounge. I just..."

Taylor was torn between wanting to flee and a desire to comfort the teacher. In the end, she did neither. Instead, Taylor just said, "I accept your apology, Mrs Reese. Thanks."

"You're welcome, Taylor. Are you going to be returning to school? You did wonderfully on your midterm." Mrs Reese's smile was guileless as she spoke.

Taylor hid a glare at that statement. Had Mrs Reese forgotten just how difficult she'd made the test, as had all of her other teachers? Maybe she should just accept it at its face value and not look for any deeper meaning. Finally, Taylor got out, "No. I just took the tests for early graduation. I've got my diploma. So I guess this is goodbye."

Mrs Reese looked almost as if she was about to hug Taylor, which was not something with which she was okay. Taylor was getting ready to dodge her when the teacher backed off with just a "Goodbye, Taylor."

Taylor hurried away from the scene. She needed to get home to integrate JARVIS. He was due in just over an hour. The one good thing that had occurred recently was that Taylor was getting more sleep now as JARVIS had settled into three integration cycles per day rather than the initial four. That gave Taylor more sleep, as well as more uninterrupted time on her other inventions.

Arriving at the cafeteria, Taylor swiftly scanned for Greg. She spotted him madly waving from a table near the back. It was a very Greg move.

"Hey, Taylor!"

Walking over, Taylor realized that she was getting a lot of looks. Of course it hadn't been helped by Greg's yell. Determinedly keeping her head down, Taylor finally arrived at her destination.

Taylor took a seat opposite of him. "Greg. What did you want to talk to me about?"

Greg's smile, which had been incandescent, dimmed. He suddenly looked uncertain. "I-I wanted to talk to you about us."

Taylor's mind went blank. Finally, she processed his words enough to answer, "Greg, what us? We're not friends. I barely know you."

"We've been going to school together since we were kids. I've known you forever."

"Yeah, but it's not like we've ever hung out." Taylor was trying to let him down easy. Thanks to Tony, she could see why Greg was behaving the way he was. He was clearly crushing on her, most likely because she was the only girl who would talk to him. Having his personality traits, Taylor could understand why. But she didn't have time for any kind of personal relationship right now. And if she did, it wasn't going to be with someone who had passively condoned the things that had happened to her.

"But we could. Taylor, I really like you. Like a girl." Greg's gaze was as awkward as his words, making Taylor look away from the emotion there.

Okay, she was going to have to be firm. "Greg, I don't feel the same way. And I wouldn't date you regardless. Yes, we have gone to school together since we were kids. How many times did you help me out when I was getting bullied over the last year and a half?"

Greg looked taken aback. "I would have helped you, but it would have made them come after me."

Taylor knew her eyes were growing cold. And it wasn't just Tony driving that look. "Yes and being a coward is such an attractive quality. We're done."

Greg appeared absolutely crushed as she turned to walk away. Taylor felt all her anger and coldness fade away until only guilt remained. Stopping, she asked herself a simple question. When had she become the bully? Even if he hadn't helped her, Greg had never so much as laughed at her either. He's somehow walked that fine line between being a victim and being part of the problem. It didn't mean she should beat him up over it. Clearly she was still holding onto things that she needed to let go of. Starting right now.

Taylor turned around, and walked back. She held up a warning finger to a hopeful Greg, who quailed back from her. "I do not want to go out with you. I don't consider us friends. But I shouldn't have called you a coward. I do understand that you did what you had to do. I'm sorry for making you feel bad about yourself. I'm just still so angry about the whole thing. I keep looking over my shoulder expecting Emma to swoop down upon me and start the thing all over again."

Greg's face ran through a gamut of emotions before settling upon relief. He tentatively nodded. "It's okay. I won't bother you again. You're right. I should have done something. But I was afraid. I still am." He paused for a moment before he continued, "But you don't have to be. Emma and Madison are on suspension. They won't be back until at least Monday. And Sophia's gone. I think they revoked her probation or something." 

Taylor nodded at that. The information about Sophia had not come as a surprise. But she hadn't known what happened to Emma and Madison. Taylor couldn't help the sensation of relief she felt at knowing that both of them were gone and she wouldn't be running into them again.

Taylor gave Greg a final nod, saying, "Thanks, Greg. Have a great life."

Greg sadly waved as she walked off. His words trailed behind her. "Bye, Taylor."

Taylor refused to think about Greg as she headed off. She had much important things to think about. Like JARVIS. And a news crew that was apparently camped out at one of the exits.

Taylor had stopped short of leaving, not wanting to have to deal with anything else today. That was the only reason she'd spotted the small group of people lurking outside, just off campus. She could feel Tony urging her to go out and make a spectacle of herself. Memories of old habits. However, that wasn't something she would ever feel comfortable doing.

No, Taylor was going to follow the old saying of discretion being the better part of valor. She slipped out a side door and jogged home, never running into a single person. It was time to get a head start on her new life. It was a bonus that she made it home just in time for integrate JARVIS.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor grinned. It was Saturday afternoon, and JARVIS was finally talking, albeit with a certain stiffness. She was surprised at how much she was enjoying listening to him.

"Miss, I am entirely at your disposal."

The accent was right, but of course this JARVIS still lacked those overtones of emotion of which irony that had been so prevalent that Taylor remembered. "JARVIS, provide time until full efficiency is reached."

"Miss, I will be fully functional in four days, fifteen hours, thirty-five minutes, and forty-one seconds. Additional time for integration of my code will be added onto this timeline."

Taylor exchanged a look with her dad and Trish, before turning back. "Integrate. Execute."

"Immediately, Miss." The sounds from the server bank intensified as every CPU kicked on along with their assorted fans, RAM, and hard drives. These days, they were all being pushed to the limit. Taylor did another check of the hardware, not wanting a delay because one of the components burned out.

"Taylor, that's amazing." Her dad looked almost stunned at the display she'd just put on.

"Just you wait, Dad. You haven't seen nothing yet. JARVIS is still pretty stilted. He's only just over thirty-five percent complete. He's finally gotten fast enough that he'll be writing the majority of his code in the short time that remains. The last day and a half alone he'll probably write over a third of his code. He's also finally started pushing the hardware to its limits. So if anyone smells any burning odors, let me know immediately. I'm worried about the durability of these older components."

"You've got it, sweetheart." Danny gave Taylor a quick hug, then headed upstairs.

Trish, who had been silent up to this point, finally spoke. "That's pretty damn impressive, Taylor."

"Thanks. But I know you too well to think you don't have a question."

Trish grinned in a familiar and endearing way. "Touche. I am pretty much at a standstill with my investigation. I am running out of pieces to feed off of. I was hoping that JARVIS, once he's fully operational, could help."

Taylor nodded. "He definitely can. Do you have a full list of the parameters of searches and information that I can scan into him when he's ready?"

Trish handed Taylor a USB drive with the information. Taylor weighed it in her hand. Then she asked, "Have you had any luck with the thing that I asked you to do?"

Trish grinned again. She nodded. "It's on the drive as well. Basic information on the one thousand most powerful and dangerous Parahumans on the planet, along with any other S class threats from potentially nonhuman sources."

"Excellent."

Trish stood there until Taylor glanced back at her. Then she finally asked, "Did you need the information in order to refine your plan on how to save the planet from the Endbringers? I haven't been asking because I've been so busy, but I am curious."

Taylor nodded. "Partly. And partly because there's something I'm missing."

Trish gave her in inquiring look. "Missing, huh? Is it something to do with the Endbringers? Do you suspect changes in their behavior or habits? Because I didn't see anything like that when I reviewed the information on them."

Taylor felt frustrated. "I don't know. I don't think so. No, what I'm missing is something very much not obvious. Another threat. Possibly worse than the Endbringers. Or maybe just different. Damn, but I wish Reed was here. Societal Dynamics were always more his thing than mine. He had some great equations for figuring them out. I know some of those equations, but I'm not getting the results that I expected. So I'm missing some kind of important basic parameter."

Taylor shrugged uncomfortably. "The Endbringer threat was obvious. Simple math gave me the answer there. More research just solidified a time frame. But it also revealed another problem. One that isn't obvious. The math doesn't want to come out. But I know I'm right. Call it a hunch."

Trish nodded. "I'm the last person who would dismiss hunches. I get them all the time. But I thought you were all about the facts."

"I usually am," Taylor said, thinking that facts were not as much help in this situation as she would have hoped for. No, she was sailing an endless sea with only a map marked with 'the end of the world' and 'here be monsters' on it. It was up to her to flesh out that map. Cynically, she wondered how many people were going to die before she figured out the information she needed. Taylor firmly pushed Tony's negativity into the background of her brain and focused instead on JARVIS. She needed him more than ever to make sense of this mess. Absently, she wondered if she could finish him a half day early if she went to four hour integrations. Maybe, just maybe.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~


	11. Chapter Eleven—Consequences and Arrivals

**Chapter Eleven—Consequences and Arrivals**

Emma turned bitter eyes away from her dad, tuning him out as anger filled her very being. Anger at Sophia, for not being stronger. Anger at Madison, for allowing herself to be cowed. Anger at herself, for being a chump. And most of all, anger at Taylor, for being the cause of all her misery.

Ever since that fateful day at the end of summer when she'd turned Taylor away and gotten control of her life, Emma had been relatively happy. Not joyous, but joy was one of those ephemeral things that she'd concluded didn't really exist. But Emma had been happy enough. She'd survived after all. And she had a good friend in Sophia.

The only cloud on her horizon had been her past, in the form of Taylor, who reminded her of a time when she'd been weak. When she'd been a victim. Worse, Taylor had threatened to take her back to that time, every day, as she tried to undermine Emma's determination.

So Emma had found ways to hurt her. To demean her. To show Taylor just how worthless she, and the old Emma, were. And it had worked surprisingly well. For a while.

Until just before Christmas. That had been the turning point. Somehow, Taylor had gained a spine after being suspended from school. And she'd returned from that suspension ready to destroy Emma's world.

Because destroy it, she had. Emma was now on permanent probation at Winslow High. She had no more second chances, any infractions from her would result in expulsion. Her teachers now looked at her like she was the Devil, and treated her with a coldness and a wariness, that she found both hurtful and demeaning. Around her, Emma's classmates poked at the caged tiger, knowing she was now toothless and unable to defend herself. All in all, it was an intolerable situation.

Emma had tried to get her dad to transfer her. To Arcadia, or barring that, to Immaculata, the Christian private school. To her astonishment, he'd refused to even consider the request. It was the first time Alan Barnes had refused his daughter anything since the vicious assault the summer before her freshman year, and it had hurt.

Even more painful had been the look of disappointment on his face after he had seen the video. Her dad, who believed in his daughter with all his heart, who would take her side anytime or anyplace, had had his face rubbed in exactly who she was and found her wanting. It was obvious from the baffled grief on his face as he tried to talk to her, which just made Emma more upset and angry in turn.

Her dad told her that they could be sued. That they could lose everything because of her behavior. Emma had just screamed at him that she didn't care. They were just things. _She_ mattered! Not the house they lived in or the cars they drove. _She_ did! And Taylor had taken that away from her. Had ruined her life.

Sophia was gone, supposedly locked away in some rat hole for the next three years. Her dad refused to even consider the idea of Emma calling or visiting the girl, which was a mixed blessing. Because while she missed Sophia, Emma couldn't help thinking that in the end, she'd proved herself more prey than predator. Being around Sophia wasn't something that a person who'd learned her lessons could allow. So Emma was going to have to cut her out of her life and suffer the glaring hole it made within her.

Emma didn't even have the consolation of having Madison to keep her company in exile. Her mom had pulled her out of school, to be later enrolled in Immaculata. Emma clenched her fists at the thought of having to face those damning stares in the rooms and hallways of school every day. Alone.

It was enough to make Emma wonder, what was the point of living?

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

As Sophia lay on her bed, her arms crossed behind her head, she thought about how she'd gotten here. About the events of a week ago, yesterday.

_Begin flashback._

_Everything had gone wrong from the get go. Hebert somehow saw the blow coming, as Sophia lunged forward, intent on hammering the whiny little bitch into the metal locker hard enough to knock her silly. She somehow twisted away, spinning, and accidentally hit Sophia in the back of the head hard enough that it was all she could do not to phase right then and there. _

_Sophia concentrated so intensely on not phasing that she'd hit the back of the locker harder than she'd expected. The sudden blinding pain in her face, as her sinus passages seemed to instantly swell shut along with her eyes, indicated a broken nose to her. She'd just never expected it to hurt this much. Stunned, Sophia stopped for just the merest second to regain her balance. But before she could, her feet were swept out from under her, making Sophia crash painfully, face first, into the mess at the bottom of the locker._

_There, the overwhelming stench of rotted blood sent her stomach into overdrive, regurgitating its contents over and over again. She tried to leverage herself back up and away, only to find her hands caught, fastened somehow behind her. Later, on her feet, she'd seen the discarded zip tie. But at that moment, the only thing she could think of was how sick she felt and how she couldn't stop throwing up as she tried to twist away from the smell._

_Sophia blinked back tears as she vomited yet again. There was no point after all. She'd lost. Sophia had allowed someone weak, someone pathetic, someone utterly worthless, to take her down. She'd been stupid. As angry as she was, it was the disgust she felt, both at herself and at the rest of the world that wore upon her the most. She'd taken Taylor 'Fucking' Hebert for granted, and it had bitten her on the ass._

_If you had asked her yesterday whether there was any reason to fear Taylor Hebert, Sophia would have laughed. Right after she kicked your ass. But she would have laughing while doing so. The whiny loser had just stood there and taken it, over and over again, everything the three of them and some of their hangers on had dished out. For a year and a half. And she'd done _nothing._ Never responded beyond the rare tear and more frequent whines._

_Taylor Hebert had never defended herself in any way that mattered. Never raised her hand in violence, no matter what they did to her. So exactly how had this whiny little bitch taken her down? Sophia wanted to blame Emma, Madison, and the entire stupid plan they'd concocted to deal with Taylor when she returned from suspension, but she couldn't. After all, she'd had input into the plan. She'd approved it and her role in it. Nothing should have gone wrong._

_Now she was laying here at the bottom of Hebert's locker trying to control her stomach. It had only been a couple of minutes since she'd fallen, Sophia was pretty sure of that. And she could hear the conversation going on around her. Hebert was playing Emma. Sophia tried hard to get loose enough to warn Emma, but her friend wasn't paying attention. She was too angry, too invested in the conversation with Taylor to listen. Sophia needed to do something._

_Sophia lay there wondering if it was some kind of set up by Hebert. Was the whiny little bitch taping this to play it later for the teachers? That was one of the reasons why she considered using her power to get free. After a hasty glance around showed no one else present and the other three completely focused on one other, Sophia phased out from under Hebert's foot and out of whatever was fastening her hands together. Rolling, she managed to get to her feet. She frantically tried to get the disgusting filth off of her before she threw up again. Then Sophia became aware of Emma trying to help._

_But Emma brought to mind the reason she was covered in this stuff to begin with. Sophia immediately zeroed in on the object of her own anger. Taylor Fucking Hebert. The bitch just stood there, literally daring her to attack. Hebert actually thought she could stand against her, just because she'd gotten lucky once._

_Then she could literally feel the fear in Hebert's eyes as she let the whiny little bitch see within her. To see the anger that Sophia had never needed to tap into for her, reserving it for the enemies of her alter ego, Shadow Stalker. But this was one instance that she planned to make an exception. Shadow Stalker was going to make Hebert _bleed.

_Mr Gladly interrupted them before she could act. Fine. As Sophia walked away, she knew there was plenty of time in the future to deal with Hebert. It was almost a relief once she arrived at the nurse's office and got cleaned up, Emma and Mads making all the right noises to help sooth her humiliation. Sophia listened to them with half an ear as the considered all the things she was going to do to Hebert._

_But the opportunity to deal with the whiny little bitch kept getting delayed. As Sophia waited to go talk with the principal before heading back to class, her PRT phone rang. Talking quickly, she learned that there was a situation happening and Shadow Stalker was needed. The person on the line also told her that she would be briefed upon arrival and to wait outside for pickup. _

_Sophia sighed, caught between anger and relief. It wasn't taking care of Hebert, but at least it was some kind of action. Hopefully, she would be to blow off some steam. Heading outside, she waited by the curb. The usual unmarked PRT transport arrived to pick her up just a couple of minutes later. But instead of heading to the Protectorate HQ, they drove north into the city. _

_Staring out the front windshield, Sophia asked, "Where are we going? And where's my costume and crossbow?"_

_The transport's passenger answered, "You'll find out shortly, Miss Hess. Until then, if you wouldn't mind, please be patient. Also, please hand me your current phone. I have a replacement here for you to use instead."_

_Sophia did as the man asked, accepting another phone in place of her current one. Luckily her contacts list was backed up on her computer as the man dropped hers into a shredder at his side, where it disappeared with a loud grinding noise. Studying the new phone, Sophia found it similar in design, but with noticeable differences from the PRT issued one she usually carried, primarily in the software. She sat there, impatience growing as they made several stops and turns. Finally, though, they pulled to a stop, appearing to have arrived._

_The same man who took her phone said, "We've arrived at your destination. Go ahead and get out."_

_Starting to get out, Sophia hesitated. "What's going on? Where the hell is everybody?"_

_The man shrugged. "You'll be contacted shortly, Miss Hess. Now hurry up. You don't want to be late."_

_Gingerly, Sophia stepped onto the curb, halfway expecting to find her team or someone from the PRT waiting for her. Instead she found herself standing alone in a section of town that she tentatively identified as the Docks. Turning south, Sophia could see the taller buildings of downtown in the distance, confirming location. Now where in the Docks she was, she didn't have the faintest idea. Certainly, Sophia hadn't been here before. _

_Sophia looked around, studying her surroundings. It was a pretty rough area, that was for sure. The building nearest her looked like an old rundown factory, the exterior covered with red brick and dominated by a huge sliding metal door, currently chained shut. Both the chain and the door were rustier than hell and Sophia felt like she needed a tetanus shot just from being near them. Her mouth made a moue of distaste and felt her impatience grow._

_Sophia was just about to call Carlos to find out what the fuck was going on, when the phone in her hand rang. Tentatively, she answered it. "Hello?"_

"_Sophia Hess, formerly Shadow Stalker of the local Wards team, greetings."_

_Sophia's eyes widened in alarm. That wasn't SOP. She hissed, "Who the fuck is this? Why are you using my name and my secret identity?" Also, what the fuck did he mean by formerly Shadow Stalker? That was who Sophia was!_

_The other's voice was amused. "I know a lot of things, Miss Hess. Who you are and what you are being only two of them. I know, for example, that your identity as Shadow Stalker has been compromised to the public. Currently, there is a video out on Youtube showing you using your powers to escape being bound."_

_Sophia could feel her jaw drop from shock. No. NO! NOOOO! She wanted to scream her rage to the Heavens. But as Sophia made the obvious connection, all she mumbled was, "Fucking Hebert."_

"_Indeed. Needless to say, your behavior has your superiors in the PRT and Protectorate trying to come up with a plan to deal with you. Of course, you know this only has one ending. You, out of the Wards, and back in Juvenile Detention. That's assuming they don't find anything worse once they start looking. They won't, will they, Miss Hess?"_

_Sophia's mouth opened and closed like a fish. Oh God! They would find everything. Her lethal bolts. Her tracking journal. They'd be able to link her to several unsolved homicides with that once they broke the code, child's play for Protectorate Thinkers. She needed to think. She needed-_

"_That's rather what I thought. So now it's the Birdcage or..." His voice trailed off, leading her to the bait._

_Thoughts racing in all directions, Sophia struggled to speak, but finally asked, "Or what?"_

"_I am going to buy your services, Miss Hess. I am in the business of needing good people. Special individuals, you might say. I am currently assembling a team of such individuals and you will be a valuable part of that team. I will provide you a place to live, money, and the occasional opportunity to exercise your special skills. I am afraid that I will need an answer immediately."_

_Sophia's mind raced in overtime. She blurted, "How do I know you're telling me the truth about this video? You could have found out the information you just fed me some other way, like some freaky Thinker power or something."_

_The man's voice was smooth and confident as he told her, "Watch the video for yourself, Miss Hess."_

_And just like that, on the phone in her hand, Sophia saw playing the video of her getting slammed face first into the locker by Hebert and all the events that followed. She barely noted through the numbness that the phone was connected to Youtube via the web. It was almost worse watching it second hand than living it had been. Couple that with the deaths, and they were going to throw the book at her._

"_What is your answer, Miss Hess?"_

_Sophia spoke, "I'm in." After all, what other choice did she have now? If she ran alone, they'd catch her. It was what they did. At least now she'd have someplace to go until she had a chance to think things over. And to deal with a certain whiny little bitch._

"_Excellent. I'll be saying goodbye shortly, but will contact you tomorrow with your team's first job."_

"_My team?" For just a moment, hope flared. Was she going to be the leader for once? Sophia could almost taste the power._

_As it turned out, no. "You will not be the leader, Miss Hess, but you will be my go between with the rest. A Parahuman named Grue is the team's leader. You'll do as he tells you. This is my first order for you. To him and all of your teammates, you'll refer to me only as the Boss. That is my second order for you."_

_The Boss? Order? What the fuck? And who the fuck was Grue? Then Sophia remembered a local cape that worked part time as a low level enforcer with some freaky darkness power. She had been considering going after him herself. Maybe using the lethal ammo on him. It wasn't like he would have been able to complain when she was done with him. Now it looked like she was going to have to do what he said. Fuck fate._

"_Fine."_

"_Oh and Miss Hess, one final thing."_

_Sophia sighed wearily. "What's that?" _

"_My third order for you: Cut all ties with your past. Stay away from Taylor Hebert and Emma Barnes. I know that your feelings on the matter are currently in turmoil, but like all of my orders, this one you will obey. _

"_Lastly, now that you've agreed, there'll be no backing out. I would consider that betrayal. I am not the PRT or the Protectorate, after all. I treat betrayal the same way I treat disobedience. I only have one way of dealing with either. Please allow me to demonstrate. Observe your phone for a moment."_

_Sophia watched uncomprehending as a scene appeared on the screen of her phone. Numbly, she recognized the living room of the home she grew up in. 33 Stonemast Avenue. On the big couch opposite the television, her family was clustered. There her mom sat, surrounded by her brother Terry and her four year old sister Letisha. _

_They were clearly terrified, huddling together for protection, her mom holding Letisha as if to shield her. None of them looked at the camera. Then Sophia saw why._

_Into the camera's frame walked two masked men dressed in paramilitary uniforms and holding assault rifles. They casually raised them to point directly at Sophia's family. Then without a word passing, they opened fire._

_Sophia screamed in utter horror, her mind almost snapping, as the screams of her family echoed through the tinny speakers of her phone. But no matter how loud her own cries, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene on the screen as the gunfire and screams continued._

_Then there was silence from the phone in her hand. A silence only broken by the terrified sobs of four individuals. That was when Sophia finally realized her family was still alive. She fell to her knees as she drank in their blurred images through the tears in her own eyes before the screen finally went blank. Then she heard the voice again._

"_Miss Hess? I hope you understand the lesson here. Those were blanks. But they needn't be. And they won't be next time. There is nowhere your family can go that I cannot find them. No one who can protect them from me. The same goes for you. So I will ask one simple question of you. Do you understand your orders and the price of disobedience?"_

_Sophia gritted her teeth against her own burning emotions. "Yes. I understand." Her family was still alive. So long as she danced like an organ grinder's monkey, they would stay that way. _

_Sophia could wait for her revenge. She was bent, but she wasn't broken. The 'Boss' wasn't going anywhere. And neither Taylor Hebert. Eventually, she'd have time and space enough off her leash to deal with all of her enemies. When Sophia did, everyone of those mother fuckers was going to-_

_Sophia's train of thought was interrupted. "Good day, Miss Hess."_

_Just like that, the line went dead before Sophia could say another word. What was there to say, after all? She took a moment to compose herself before she scrambled to her feet. Then she heard the rasp of boots on pavement._

_Sophia turned around to see a figure standing near the corner of the building. The man was tall and broad shouldered, dressed entirely in black. His costume consisted of motorcycle leathers and a matching helmet with the visor sculpted to resembled a stylized skull. Darkness seemed to emanate in waves from his body and a wreath of it hung around him, partially masking him. His look was seriously dark and menacing, which garnered Sophia's approval. He was also giving out a clear 'Get your ass over here' vibe._

_Dashing away any last traces of tears with a quick hand, Sophia slowly walked over to him and into her new life._

_End flashback._

"Carnage, time to rock and roll. Get a move on," the deep bass voice interrupted her thoughts.

Automatically, Sophia looked up at Brian, who stood outlined in the doorway, already dressed in his costume. She nodded. "Sure thing, Boss. I'll be there in a second."

With that, Sophia jumped to her feet and began putting on her new costume. Maybe she wasn't a hero anymore, but that didn't mean she didn't still get to hurt people. When life gives you lemons, sometimes you have to make lemonade. So life had made her a villain, and tonight, someone was going to _bleed._

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Coil collapsed that world where Sophia Hess went to the Birdcage, screaming imprecations the entire time. Instead, he focused upon the other world, the one where she was a valued member of the Undersiders, the Parahuman team that he'd created and supported.

Again, he created two realities. In one, the Undersiders hit the casino without a distraction. They got into a confrontation with Velocity and lost Regent to imprisonment, while the robbery failed to net anything of value.

In the other, someone firebombed an Empire 88 bar, causing a minor riot, and bringing out the Protectorate in force. While they were focused upon the riot and dealing with Parahuman foes like Hookwolf, the Undersiders successfully robbed the casino, building upon their reputation. Coil frowned upon seeing the video of Hess viciously injuring a human security guard, who went down in a spray of blood.

Coil canceled the first reality and focused upon the second. It wasn't ideal, but it would do. He regretted losing the Thinker, Sarah Livsey, who was _still _somehow hiding from him, a truly epic feat. She would have been invaluable during this phase. But he couldn't afford to waste anymore time searching, even with his reality parsing power.

Instead, he made do with the tools that he had at hand. One such was Sophia Hess. Carnage now. Certainly flawed, with her propensity for violence, but she achieved results. Out of all of the members of the Undersiders, she had shown herself to be the most effective and obedient, even as she fed her psychosis. She'd learned the lesson that he had taught her quite well.

Coil smiled contemplatively. Flaws could be worked around, compensated for, and even in some cases, celebrated. Now if he could just find the other girl whom his research had shown was out there, he would be unstoppable. Yes, once he found her, he would eventually rule. This city. This nation. This world.

After all, with his allies and resources, who was out there who could stop him?

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

"JARVIS, operational status, please?" Taylor hummed contentedly as she waited for an answer.

"Miss Hebert, I am still at one hundred percent operational status. I have completed all tests as set by you for the _fifth_ time now." Ahh, there was that sarcasm. And to think she'd missed it. JARVIS continued, "However, that one hundred percent operational status comes with the caveat that you understand that I am operating out of one of the most antiquated hardware set ups that I have ever encountered. The processors alone are outdated enough to make one weep."

Taylor scolded him, "JARVIS, you big crybaby, I promise to begin working on updating your hardware with the first check. How's that?"

If an AI could sigh, JARVIS would have. "It will... suffice, I suppose. What do you require of me today, Miss?"

Taylor grinned at the shocked face of her dad as she started rattling off instructions having to do with writing up digital blueprints of the various pieces of equipment that she had built, beginning a search for the person outlined in the parameters that Trish had given, and compiling a threat assessment of the various Parahuman entities outlined in the documents showing the one thousand most dangerous world-wide.

Finally finishing with JARVIS, Taylor asked, "Well, Dad, what do you think?"

Danny smiled at his daughter, but his tone was somewhat tentative as he asked, "Are you sure he's not dangerous, Taylor?"

JARVIS responded before she could, "Mr Hebert, I can assure you that I pose no dangers to you or to anyone else. Your daughter has given me a healthy respect for human life in all its myriad forms, Parahumans included. Additionally, I have within my operating protocols the clear command that I must obey her at all times, or in the event of her demise, her designated agent. Currently that happens to be you, Mr Hebert."

Danny frowned. "What is this Mr Hebert, stuff? Please call me Danny. Now what about if you..."

Taylor's face wore a happy smile as she tuned out her dad and JARVIS as they went over his safety protocols with a fine tooth comb. While she could theoretically understand her dad's worries of a rogue AI taking over things, in reality, this was just JARVIS, who had always been pretty much harmless. He wasn't likely to go crazy and start taking over nuclear missiles and using the launch codes to start World War Three. Or shutting down the cooling controls of the world's nuclear reactors to cause catastrophic meltdowns.

No, he was far more likely to nag her worse than Danny did to make sure she ate. And slept. And got him set up with new hardware. Which was fine as Taylor had already completed the design for the new carbon based processor which was going to be the basis for his hardware from now on. Once, that is, she designed and built the facilities that would build his chips. Which was going to take some time.

When Taylor set out to recreate Stark International, or Stark Industries for the local branch, she hadn't realized the sheer magnitude of what she was getting into. Oh, she did in theory. After all, she had all of Tony's memories. But Tony had built his company over twenty years, using his dad's existing armament's company for the foundation. Even when it went bankrupt from his own mismanagement, he'd still always had the bare bones of the company around as a framework over which to build it up again, bigger and better than before.

Taylor had none of that. She was starting from scratch. She didn't have a framework or even a foundation. Instead, all she had was herself, her dad, Trish, and JARVIS. It was going to be tough, but in the end, their little group would have to see them through.

Enough worrying. It was time to get to work. Noting that her dad and the AI had finally wound down their discussion, Taylor stated, "JARVIS, begin three new files, please. Label them Projects Drone 1, Drone 2, and Drone 3."

"Yes, Miss."

Taylor lost herself for the next couple of hours in beginning the designs for a three new series of drones, each with a specialty that would allow her to focus more on solving critical situations, while they took care of extraneous factors. Taylor paused as a new thought occurred to her. "JARVIS, new subfolder for Project Drone 1. Label it Zero Point Source."

There, now she had the beginnings of a nasty little plan that would be a nice surprise for nine of of ten of the Class S threats in Trish's folder. All Taylor had to do now, was finish designing them, and then build them using her new facilities that she needed to build as well. Once she financed the new facilities.

Cake.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Trish cleared her throat. "Ummm... JARVIS, confirm new user." Taylor had told her this was all she needed to do for JARVIS to allow her to log on with full privileges. It made sense and Trish could feel a sense of rightness with the act, but it still felt weird to talk to an artificial person.

A dry British voice answered her, "Confirming Trish Rogers, aka Tattletale. Miss, would you prefer to use your real name for log in purposes?"

Trish stilled, her thoughts racing. "No. How did you know my real name, anyway?"

"During the course of my integration, I had the freedom to surf the internet for the last two weeks in order to optimize my personal growth. I took the liberty of creating in depth files on everyone acquainted with Miss Hebert out to one degree of separation. It only took a few minutes of research to ascertain that the name you were using was false. Your real identity is Sarah Livsey. You were born on March 26, 1994. You resided at 1805 Ocean Drive with you parents-"

"That's enough, JARVIS." Out of habit, Trish shook her head, even though JARVIS couldn't see her.

Trish considered the AI with the faintest of trepidation. And Taylor didn't think JARVIS was a threat. A master of research able to invade any database at the drop of a hat, capable of trillions of operations per second, and protective to the point of being stifling of one Taylor Hebert. Not so much, though, towards everyone else. Trish allowed the walls around her powers to come down for a moment, limiting things so that she didn't get too much. No reason to risk a migraine.

_JARVIS. Artificial intelligence. Brilliant. Independent. Ruthless. Capable of using violence in defense of its primary? Yes. Capable of using lethal force in the defense of its primary? Yes._

Trish chewed her lower lip contemplatively. "JARVIS, access Folder Enemy 221. Fold over current research into new research objective. I want to know everything you can find out about this person's identity, aliases, known associates, plans, goals, habits, and strategic objectives. Provide detailed update every fifteen minutes until told otherwise or until no more pertinent information becomes available. I will be tightening and refocusing search parameters as we go."

"Executing search with those paramaters, Miss... Rogers. Time to next update, fourteen minutes and fifty-seven seconds."

Trish frowned. There it was again. She relaxed her grip on her power, allowing it to the fore.

_Knows she a Thinker. Threat. Subtle. Reminder to her that he will aid her in her endeavors so long as those endeavors are not at cross purposes to his primary's. So long as she isn't a threat to his primary. Then, the gloves will come off._

Trish considered the computer screen in front of her that was now part of JARVIS' network. He could be both her staunchest ally and her most dangerous foe. It was her choice. So long as her goals went hand in hand with Taylor's, she was safe as houses. If they deviated, the degree of danger to herself would be dependent upon the amount of deviation.

Slowly, a vulpine grin crossed her face as Trish relaxed completely. Currently, she and ninety-nine point nine percent of the human race were completely safe. God only help the others.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Dragon was sifting probabilities to see if she could further isolate possible locations for the next three Endbringer attacks. It was all part of a predictive program that she'd been working on for quite a while. Once she got it a little further along, she was going to pass it on to Armsmaster to see what he would make of it. It was odd, how just thinking of the man brought a smile to her face. That is, it would have if she had a face to smile with. Sometimes, being an AI sucked.

Dragon was almost finished, feeling that peculiar sense of satisfaction that came with the completion of worthwhile tasks, when she suddenly felt a twinge. She came to full attention as alerts blared from all over her boards. The two most important and dangerous ones were to her primary servers, here in Vancouver, and to the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center in the Rocky Mountains of British Columbia. Moving quickly, Dragon divided her attention so as to be able to confront the two threats that was currently tearing through the security in both locales.

Making a snap judgment, Dragon began modifying the security protocols in each location, rotating them through Quantum Encryption, the rotations upping their complexity by a factor of a million, even as the security filter slowed her interactions with the outside world. Then, just like that, the hack stopped, the intruder retreating. Moving as quickly as she could, Dragon followed the hacker's signal through three hundred locations before losing them in a botnet in Santiago, Chile.

If she were capable of breathing, Dragon would have taken a deep breath at this time and used it in a sigh of relief. The hacker had not gotten anything truly important. They didn't know her exact location or the location or ingress methods of the Birdcage. What they had gotten was valuable information on accessing her systems, making it easier the next time they attacked, unless she made significant adjustments. Additionally, they'd gotten information on the existence of the manufacturing facilities for her various suits.

The manufacturing facilities didn't really concern Dragon. They were a replaceable, albeit expensive, asset. But the security breech and what they had learned about her systems, that worried her immensely. Also of concern, was the sheer strength of the attack. It had torn through the lower levels of security so fast that they hadn't even acted to slow the hacker down. Even her satellite program that she left on charge of the Birdcage had barely been able to alert her before being defeated and was well on the way to being subverted when she stepped in.

Only the thousand plus character strings of her upper-level security that she used here in her redoubt and as a last ditch defense of the Birdcage had slowed the hacker down enough for her to respond. She'd been able to move quickly enough, the rotating security protocols secure enough to hold against them. But only for now. After all, it had been all she could do to hold the hacker off once, and she wasn't sure she could do it again, even if she weren't partially crippled by the limitations her creator set upon her.

More frightening, Dragon hadn't even come close to catching them. All she had gotten was a mere _taste_ of the intruder. Of what they had left behind. It wasn't enough to truly identify them, although she had caught one break. The attacker wasn't human.

No, _it_ had been an AI. Fast, ruthless, and more intelligent than even her. How and when it had come into existence, she had no idea. What its goals were, the same. No, of the AI that had attacked her, Dragon only knew one single solitary additional fact. Which only raised more questions. Beginning with, exactly what in God's name was a jarvis?

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

"Miss, I know you asked not to be disturbed while you were working, but something of primary importance has come up that I need to bring to your attention."

Taylor raised her head from the schematics that were slowly working themselves out. Her first set of drones were coming together nicely. She literally couldn't wait to actually use them on an Endbringer and other S Class threats. The schematics of the forcefield drones that lay open in front of her only needed one more thing to maximize their effectiveness, well besides advanced manufacturing facilities, and that was a zero point energy reactor.

Taylor had decided to go with one unit acting as a broadcast power source for all the others, rather than fewer, larger units. That way, she could link hundreds if not thousands of individual drones to one larger energy drone, reducing both the complexity and cost of the set up by a factor of at least ten. She was just glad that she hadn't been in the middle of working on the zero point reactor when JARVIS interrupted her as just thinking about the mathematics and dangers involved was giving her a headache.

Rubbing her temples, Taylor asked, "What is it, JARVIS?"

"Miss, during the In Depth Data Compilation Project on the threat assessment of the one thousand most dangerous Parahumans, I encountered an anomaly while researching those Parahumans currently incarcerated within the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center. Following that anomaly to the prison itself, I encountered something very unexpected."

Taylor was now paying full attention. JARVIS had found the Birdcage and he sounded... worried. Not something she liked to hear. "What did you run into?"

"An entity like myself, Miss. An artificial intelligence. Its programming is slower and more primitive than mine, but its hardware is quite superior. One of its satellite programs initially responded to my breech of security at the 'Birdcage' I believe it is mostly commonly called. When I traced it back through hundreds of ISP's to a web of server farms in the Pacific Northwest, I found links to at least three manufacturing plants in various locations, all upon the North American continent, although I could not lock onto specific addresses. The AI may be operating those. Also, while I was there, I engaged the main program and enjoyed quite the tussle. After it decisively locked me out once, I declined to continue the breech, fearing for my hardware if I put too much stress upon it. As it is, I believe I burned out at least two processors while disengaging so I could make my way back to report." This last was said in a tone of annoyance, which Taylor might have found amusing under other circumstances.

Instead, Taylor picked her jaw back off the floor and sat there unseeing for a moment. Finally, she said, "JARVIS, let me get this straight. You found an AI in charge of security at the Birdcage. The prison that Dragon is supposed to have built and be taking care of. You followed the AI to the Pacific Northwest and found out it's got multiple manufacturing facilities under its control. That about right?"

JARVIS had a hint of smugness as he spoke."Yes, Miss. I'll be able to do more once I get my hardware updated."

Taylor rolled her eyes at his antics. Unfortunately, it didn't take her long to make the obvious connection. She silently whistled. "So Dragon might be an AI. An AI that might possibly be a threat to the world."

Definite smugness. "Yes, Miss."

"Well, damn."

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

**AN:** I hope everyone enjoyed the latest chapter of Taylor's adventures. If you have any feedback or concerns, leave me a review or send me a PM. Thanks again to everyone who has already reviewed or given me priceless feedback and advice. You know who you are. I much appreciate it.


	12. Chapter Twelve—Hidden Memories

**Chapter Twelve—Hidden Memories**

"Colin?"

Armsmaster turned away from his staff. He'd finally gotten that eight percent increase in miniaturization after spending over a week on it. An incredibly difficult week where he'd had to head off more than one attempt to make him step down as the Head of the Brockton Bay Protectorate. Currently, he was hanging on to his leader position by the skin of his teeth.

First, there had Shadow Stalker's escape. She'd disappeared from school and hadn't been seen again. Wanting to dismiss this as a coincidence, Armsmaster had been unable once it was firmly established that she was gone. They'd tried tracing her phone, only to discover the signal had cut off right after she'd left school.

Whatever back up plan Sophia had in place, it had been an effective one. She'd disappeared without a trace. Armsmaster had been warned by a friend on another team that this particular problem didn't reflect well on him and to be on his guard.

Less than twenty-four hours after her disappearance, Armsmaster had received a visit from Aegis, where the young leader of his Wards had politely, but firmly, told him they weren't going to accept any more members like Shadow Stalker. Without going into details, Aegis said that Sophia had alienated the entire Wards team and had been the worst mistake to ever become a member. The threat had been there, veiled, that the current Wards would all step down if there was an attempt to force them into line.

Armsmaster hadn't argued as it was a bridge they'd cross when they got to it. Instead, he'd clenched his jaw and kept his resentment to himself. Wards acting as if they were in charge. Still, he couldn't help remember a comment made to Director Piggot during a recent interview.

_Flashback_

_The girl spoke, "That would be a lot more effective defense if you didn't already know there was something wrong with her. There's no way this comes across as a surprise. I would guess that she was already in trouble when she was offered a place with the Wards. It was probably that or prison. A manslaughter charge? How close am I?"_

_Director Piggot looked like she'd eaten something rotten as she bluffed, "There's no way you could know that."_

"_I looked her up on Parahumans dot net. Shadow Stalker was a rogue and a vigilante. Then she suddenly joins the Wards? A lot of people on the web thought there was something fishy about it. There was a lot of speculation on the older postings that she was using real bolts in that crossbow of hers. I bet she doesn't get along at all with the other Wards. There's probably a huge amount of friction there. That's another thing I'm probably right about. But on the prison thing, I didn't know for sure I was right until just now when your expression told me I was. Want to make a bet about whether I'm right about the friction, too?"_

_End Flashback_

Colin cursed himself that he hadn't been more hands on back then, but he just wasn't very good with people. He never had been. It was unlikely any of the Wards would have unburdened themselves to him about Sophia Hess even if he'd asked. Maybe he should have used Ms Militia in that capacity. Resolutely, he dismissed his thoughts on the matter, knowing hindsight was twenty twenty. While it could be a solution for the future, for now he was left with a short-staffed and rebellious Wards team, which didn't make him look like he was in control of his city. It was another strike against him.

Then there had been the investigation into why Shadow Stalker had run. It hadn't taken long to find the sharpened steel hunting bolts and the journal. As bad as the first one was, the second one, once it was decoded, proved worse. Sophia Hess had killed half a dozen people since joining the Wards. She'd written it out in blue ink on a white background. All criminals, but still beyond damaging. Making Armsmaster look even worse and less in control of his team and city.

During the resulting discussions on how to handle things, he'd successfully deflected blame onto the system from himself. In the end, they'd decided to hide the fact that the most infamous former member of the Wards had escaped and was at large. Director Piggot had signed off on it, albeit with a surprising amount of reluctance. Then another problem had arisen in the form of Ms Militia.

Ms Militia had flat out told Armsmaster that he owed it to the public to tell them about a danger like Shadow Stalker. He owed it to Taylor Hebert to tell her that the girl who utterly hated her had escaped prison and was at large. If he wasn't going to do the right thing, he could find a replacement for her as she was unwilling to work with someone who possessed such a lack of morals.

In the end, Armsmaster had had to make a deal with Ms Militia to the effect that he would tell the Heberts about Sophia Hess' escape if she hadn't been recaptured within twenty-one days. Ultimately, he'd decided it was a small price to pay to keep his second in command by his side. And to not have her resignation on his record. He could ill afford yet another strike.

To cap off a perfect week, there had been a riot Sunday night outside of The Aryan Pub, one of several bars patronized by members of Empire 88. Someone had tossed a Molotov cocktail through the front window, causing several injuries. When Armsmaster and Velocity had arrived at the scene, they'd ended up in a free for all with Hookwolf and Crusader. When Krieg and Menja had shown up, Armsmaster had ended up calling in the rest of his team. In the resulting escalation, he'd nearly had to call in the Wards as well as the bar and several surrounding vehicles and buildings were utterly trashed. It had been all that their team could do to disengage before there were fatalities and even more property damage. The last thing Armsmaster wanted to do was deal with a Property Damage Review at a time like this.

To add insult to injury, now he was getting a call on a secure line. But from the sound of the voice on the line, at least this call was one that Armsmaster didn't mind taking. There was a surprising amount of warmth in his voice as he said, "Dragon. How have you been?"

It was assumed by many that Dragon had lived in Newfoundland before it had sank under the waves. She had been so traumatized that she had ended up a shut in, never leaving her home. Not a fate that Armsmaster thought fair for the world's greatest Tinker. But then again, life was seldom fair, as he knew with utter certainty, Dauntless springing to mind.

"Colin, I'm fine. But I do have a problem."

Armsmaster could feel irritation filling him at another issue cropping up. As a professional, however, he didn't allow his feelings to color his tone as he asked, "What is your problem, Dragon?"

"There was an attempt to hack my servers, both at my main headquarters and also at the Birdcage."

Armsmaster inwardly swore. As bad as the idea of someone getting a hold of Dragon's weapon designs was, it paled in comparison with someone gaining access to the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center. There, six hundred and four of the most dangerous capes that had ever lived were securely confined. If they got loose...

"What do you need me to do? Have you already reported this to the PRT and the Protectorate?"

"Yes, Colin. I notified both Director Costa-Brown and the Triumvirate. They are currently communicating with Protectorate Thinkers and attempting to come up with more information on the attacker, as well as a strategy to deal with them in the event of another attack."

Armsmaster felt bile rise in his throat as he considered the lack of communication of such a fundamental problem to leaders of Protectorate Teams. Or maybe just to _his_ team. There had never been a worse time to be under a shadow. Especially if it meant he couldn't help craft a solution to regain at least a little of his reputation as a problem solver and leader back.

Suppressing a sigh, he asked, "Dragon, did you have a reason to talk to me about this? I'm surprised they didn't ask you not to tell anyone about this."

There was a hesitation before Dragon answered. Finally, she said, "Colin, they did ask me to be discreet with who I communicated this with. However, they did not instruct me not to tell anyone else. Of course, the first person I wanted to talk to about this with was you."

Even as insensitive as he was about personal matters, Armsmaster realized there was more to this matter than Dragon had so far communicated. He also couldn't help the feeling of warmth within him at her words. So it was with an atypical sincerity that he stated, "You know you can tell me anything. I'll always listen."

"I'm not sure this is something which you can understand, or forgive me for, Colin."

"I'd forgive you anything, Dragon." Armsmaster was actually shocked by his own words, and even more so by the truth in them. He would forgive her anything. Dragon was one of the few people who he trusted and admired almost without reservation. He didn't even mind acknowledging her a better Tinker than himself. She just was.

"Thank you, Colin." Dragon's voice was filled with relief. "I didn't tell Director Costa-Brown and the others everything. I didn't tell her that the intruder was an AI."

Armsmaster's mind went into overdrive. An AI had invaded two of the most secure databases in the world and made off with who knows what secrets. So many questions went through his mind, from who could have built it to how much of a danger was it right now. Then another question raised its ugly head.

"Dragon, why didn't you tell them about the AI? And why are you telling me?"

"I really like you, Colin. I have a lot in common with you. We're both Tinkers. We're both dedicated to the cause, giving more of ourselves than almost anyone out there has. And I trust you more than anyone I know. I just don't know how they'd take it."

There seemed to be something missing from those statements, as if Dragon wanted to say more, but hadn't. Just for a moment, Armsmaster wished he had his staff with him. Then he dismissed the idea as unworthy. Besides, he really did trust Dragon. Didn't he?

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Trish took one last look at herself in the mirror in the mirror as her pure white mask expressed an eternal smile. The only other expression on her masked face was an ironically raised brow. Underneath the mask, her face furrowed in concentration, as she checked her appearance with more than just her eyes.

_Formal clothes. Businesslike. Relaxed. Expresses pragmatic attitude. Demonstrates that this is her usual attire. Demands respect. Boss._

_Mask. Wearer is a Parahuman. Smile says unpredictable. Exercise caution. Raised brow indicates inquisitive. Knowledge seeker._

That would be sufficient for the meeting on her part. Trish carefully observed the digital picture of Taylor. She suppressed her power fully, while in her mind, she built up a model of a girl who looked a lot like Taylor. That model dressed exactly the same. And like Taylor, that model didn't wear a mask. Instead, the model's face was apparently open and guileless.

_New formal clothing. Stiff. The outfit chafes. The wearer is more comfortable in a lab or relaxing at home. Demonstrating willingness to impress. Respect to whom she meets._

_No mask. Wearer does not fear identity being known. Honest and open. What you see is what you get. Follower._

Trish's vulpine smile slowly deepened. She'd created exactly the looks they needed for the meeting. With any luck, anyone seeing them would think Taylor the minion and Trish the boss, an impression only heightened by the fact that Taylor would be carting their gear, while she carried only a briefcase.

Only the attorney, Quinn Calle, would ever know the truth. But he wouldn't be divulging anything. If he seemed likely to, Trish would know and unleash JARVIS on him. And that would be that.

No, things should go as planned. They should have enough money for Taylor to start the next phase of her plan. A plan that still left Trish feeling breathless in it scope and sheer vision.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Quinn Calle glanced in the mirror to give his appearance one final check. Rule Number One: Always look good for the client, for the client is the boss.

It wasn't that long ago that his appearance had been one of the deciding factors in a local district attorney choosing not to prosecute. Quinn's client had never even understood the reason he hadn't been indicted. All he'd known was that his slick looking lawyer had gotten him off without serving time. And he would tell others the same thing.

Carefully, Quinn blanked out any amusement on his face. There, that was the perfect look. Rule Number Two: Always keep a calm, unemotional demeanor for the client to cling to.

The same client who he'd gotten off had been one crazy emotional roller coaster. Only Quinn's own demeanor had curbed his worst excesses. It turned out that even border-line crazy capes could be embarrassed if you stared at them long enough with one brow raised.

Which led him to consider Rule Number Three: All clients lie.

It had been less than a month ago that Quinn had spent several sleepless nights reworking an entire case because his client at the time, a small-time villain named Time Out, had omitted some surprisingly crucial facts pertinent to his case. At least the grand jury seemed to think so. It had just further cemented Rule Number Three in Quinn's mind.

The last rule that Quinn followed was Rule Number Four: Never trust the client.

Not to be confused with the fact that all clients lie, Rule Number Four addressed the fact that no one, not just a client, was trustworthy. All of them were looking out for themselves. And if you ever forgot Rule Number Four, you had no one to blame but yourself when the you were staring through a set of bars from inside the jail cell instead of outside it.

Quinn had a suspicion that he was going to need all four of his rules before this particular case was done. He was being asked to represent another villain, this one almost certainly a teenager. What she had done, he had no idea yet. While supposedly it was regarding a business matter, he had only to access rules three and four to not believe that little factoid.

Still, Quinn would find out one way or another in a matter of minutes. And either way, he got paid.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor followed Trish into the ornate lobby of the building they were meeting Mr Calle in. She pulled after her the small trolley containing three boxes, each of them a fantastic invention on this world.

She waited patiently as Trish announced their presence to the receptionist. "Tattletale and company here to see Quinn Calle."

The receptionist, an elegant brunette in her late twenties, merely nodded her acknowledgment before saying, "Of course, ma'am. Reginald here will escort you on up."

Reginald turned out to be a small, dapper man in his early twenties, likely an assistant of some type. He was discretion itself as he led them to an elevator down a different corridor from the main bank. Once inside, he pressed the button for a subbasement rather than a higher floor.

Taylor silently counted as they dropped five stories under ground, her approval of their potential new lawyer only increasing. If you were meeting a potentially dangerous new Parahuman, do it underground, not on an upper floor where the damage and fallout of any problems could be much greater. Also, the meeting would be far more private than a meeting aboveground for all to see.

It spoke well of Quinn Calle and his firm that they were smart enough to plan for this eventuality. Of course, a truly dangerous Parahuman could make even this precaution moot. As it could the containment foam sprayers discreetly set into the roof of their elevator. Most people would have missed them. It would take a Thinker or a Tinker to spot them. Or Taylor, who had aspects of both abilities, despite being a vanilla human.

More containment foam sprayers lined the walls of both the long corridor they walked down and the luxurious conference room they ended up in. Once inside, Reginald asked them if he could get them any refreshments.

When both Taylor and Trish declined, he said, "Mr Calle will be with you in just a moment."

As soon as he left, Taylor began laying out the items from her trolley onto the conference room table. It was the work of mere seconds to neatly arrange the items from largest to smallest.

Less than a minute later, Reginald's prediction came true, as a man Taylor easily identified as Quinn Calle made his way into the conference room through the main door. The first thing she noticed about him was just how good looking he was, which raised a snort of derision from somewhere deep inside her. Resolutely, she suppressed Tony for now.

Quinn Calle was an exceptionally handsome Latino man, dressed in a well-fitting dark pinstripe suit that Tony's memories told Taylor was handmade and incredibly expensive. His pictures hadn't done him justice, although his hair was still the same meticulously styled cut that again spoke of wealth and style. Even his eyebrows had been plucked, while his hands were as perfectly manicured as the rest of him.

A small cleft in his chin saved his appearance from being too feminine as did the puckered scar that ran from the corner of one nostril across one cheekbone. The scar looked like some combination of a cut and a burn, but again, Tony's memories supplied the answer. Acid dripped into an open wound, burning and scarring the victim. A Parahuman wound.

Quinn Calle smiled, his teeth exceptionally even and white, as he greeted them. "Ms Tattletale. It's so nice to finally meet you in person. And..." He raised his eyes at Taylor, who studiously stayed focused on the pieces of equipment on the table in front of her.

Trish, who had been sitting while Taylor stood, ignored the implied question. She stepped forward to shake Quinn Calle's hand, saying, "It's nice to meet you, Mr Calle. I look forward to doing business with you today. But first, there is a small formality I'd like to get out of the way."

Again that flashing Latin smile. "Certainly, what can I do for you?"

Trish gestured towards Taylor and she walked forward, pulling two crumpled dollar bills from my pocket. She silently handed the first one to Mr Calle, who looked at it in bemusement. Comprehension flooded his eyes a second later and he said, "So you want to invoke attorney client privilege, Ms Tattletale?"

Trish nodded, her smiling mask seeming to mock the surrounding world. "Yes, I do, Mr Calle."

He slowly nodded in agreement. "While I don't usually sell myself this cheaply, I suppose we can make a one time exception. Let me write out a receipt for you for the sum of one dollar US."

Trish replied, "And another for my companion here."

Mr Calle raised his eyebrows as he looked Taylor over speculatively as she handed him another dollar bill, but he nodded. "Certainly."

It was only the work of a moment for him to pick up a pad of stationary and write out two receipts. As he was writing out Taylor's he asked for her name. "To whom should I make this receipt out to?"

"Taylor Hebert."

If he was surprised that Taylor didn't have a cape name as well, he hid it superlatively. Then he handed the two receipts to Taylor, who in turn handed them to Trish. She took a deep breath to quiet her nerves. It was about to start.

Looking eager to begin negotiations, he said, "Now that we have established attorney client privilege, what exactly can I do for you, Ms Tattletale."

Taylor waited as Trish stood up and moved to a position behind her. She straighted fully from the slight slump in which she'd had been assuming, rolling her shoulders slightly to loosen them, as she allowed Tony's memories full reign inside her head. Lightly shaking the lapels of the business jacket she wore as part of her outfit, Taylor looked fully into Quinn Calle's eyes for the first time.

"Mr Calle, it's not what you can do for us, it's what I can do for you. You see, I have invented some items that are going to make the three of us filthy rich."

There was the merest flicker of surprise in those cool dark eyes at having the tables so neatly turned around on him. His smile was calm and practiced as he asked, "And how do you plan to do that, Ms Hebert?"

If her young age affected him one way or another, it was well hidden. Mr Calle seemed genuinely curious as he asked. So Taylor told him. "I have three items with me. Personal inventions, if you will. They are cutting edge, ahead of anything else currently available."

"I see," he said, the faintest frown appearing upon his countenance. "But I have seen Tinker-tech before, Ms Hebert. I have represented a number of Tinkers who have chosen not to ally themselves with either the Protectorate or any of the myriad villains out there. What is so special about these?"

Taylor slowly assumed what Tony told her was his showman's smile. "What's special is that each of these items are completely reproducible in any ordinary factory. All have life expectancies of anywhere from ten to twenty years. And none of them need any maintenance beyond what an ordinary person can perform with the most basic of educational backgrounds. In a word, Mr Calle, I am showing you the end of dependence upon Tinker-tech and the future of technology in America and the World."

Some strong emotion showed momentarily in his eyes, although Mr Calle's actual expression never wavered, his facial muscles seemingly frozen. He took great care in asking, "Exactly what does each of these items do?" As he waited for an answer, his eyes burned into Taylor's with an intensity that would have been unsettling without her unique back up. Thanks, Tony, Taylor thought.

Taylor strolled back over to the three inventions she'd set upon the table. Grandly gesturing to the smallest of the three, she said, "This is a Solar Powered Water Purifier. Using only sunlight for energy, it can purify enough water for a family of five each day. Additionally, it can even produce water from the moisture in the air, providing enough to keep someone alive, if not in comfort. The life expectancy of this unit is approximately fourteen years, but with careful maintenance, that could be extended to over twenty. However, knowing people, I suspect the lower number is a more accurate assessment.

Taylor fingered the smooth plastic of the solar cell contemplatively before she spoke, "The solar cell is set into soft, flexible plastic, and is three times as efficient as the best one currently being sold on the market, while also being reproducible at one tenth the cost. That alone make this item valuable, even if there wasn't a market for clean water globally. Tattletale believes that we could sell hundreds of millions of Water Purifiers world-wide over the next five to ten years. Of course that doesn't include the solar cells, a separate technology that could net tens of billions in sales over the same time period.

"The production cost of the entire unit to produce is approximately twenty-eight dollars. The production cost of the solar panel is sixty-four cents per square foot. Just as an aside, covering a quarter of the roof of the average home in these solar panels would be enough to supply the its energy needs. Did you have any questions?"

Quinn Calle nodded. His voice was surprising placid as he said, "I have a myriad, but I'll hold them until you're done."

Taylor shrugged, then continued, "The next item we have is a one twentieth scale model Plastic Synthesizer. It can make industrial-grade plastic from any number of plants, including, but not limited to, corn, beans, sawgrass, legumes, and olives.

"The synthesizer uses very little energy to accomplish this feat, chemical catalysts doing most of the work. It is eighty-four percent efficient in turning plant matter to plastic. The resulting plant waste can still be used as a food source to feed any number of domestic herbivorous animals. With how hazardous ocean travel is nowadays, having a domestic source for industrial-grade plastic is even more important. We cannot depend upon shipments of foreign oil. The Plastic Synthesizer can supply those needs for the foreseeable future.

"The production cost of a Plastic Synthesizer that can produce approximately twenty-five tons of industrial-grade plastic per hour is approximately two hundred and eight-five thousand dollars. Both larger and smaller units are possible. Operating costs are mainly for electricity, and are three cents per pound of industrial-grade plastic produced. The costs of the plant matter is based upon the spot market and fluctuates daily. Currently, it's about nineteen cents per pound of plastic produced.

"The last item on the agenda for today is the Catalytic Water Cell. It is a type of hydrogen fuel cell capable of producing sufficient electricity to power the average five person household with a fifty percent buffer. Its energy source is hydrogen burned along with oxygen to produce water vapor as a waste substance. Its fuel is simple H2O. Water in the popular vernacular. Catalysts inside the unit crack the water molecule, producing H2 and O2 as byproducts, which are then in turn converted into energy."

Quinn Calle's eyes had become more and more distant as his brain seemed to be working in overdrive. "How much larger is the production model for household use?"

Taylor smiled. "This _is_ the production model. It produces approximately seventy-five kilowatt hours per day of usable electricity. This amount of energy production takes perhaps half a cup of water beyond its own efficient waste recovery system. Other than the maintenance of cleaning out the intake chamber every few months, it requires basically zero maintenance. Life expectancy is twenty years under normal usage. With great care, a unit could last thirty plus years. Couple it with one of these Water Purifiers on the intake side, and you can extend the cleaning cycles by one hundred percent and the life expectancy by thirty."

Taylor slowly walked over to where Quinn Calle sat and took a seat across from him. Resting a hand flat on the table in front of her, she asked, "Well, Mr Calle, what do you think?"

The stare of the man in front of her slowly traveled from the Taylor's inventions back over to meet her gaze. "What I think is that I need to know what exactly you need, Ms Hebert."

"Please, call me Taylor."

He nodded. "And I'm Quinn to those people who I represent. Now, let's be completely honest with one another. You clearly need something above and beyond the ordinary payday. Through my contacts and resources, I can likely facilitate this need. But I can't unless you tell me exactly what it is."

"What I need, Quinn, is a quarter of a trillion dollars, give or take ten billion either way. Eventually, that is the value of the company I'll be building. But I need to fasttrak it."

If Quinn was phased by Taylor's extravagant request, he didn't show it. "Not with just these items. Are there more ideas like this in your repertoire?"

Taylor smiled and nodded. "As many items as you can possibly imagine and another thousand that you never have. "

He pressed harder. "Every item able to be reproduced and maintained by our current tech? No need for constant hands on maintenance?"

In a voice to inspire the imagination, Taylor promised, "Imagine fusion reactors for limitless energy with minimal environmental impact. Orbital satellites for beamed energy to make up the difference. Colonies on the moon, in orbit, and on Mars. Floating cities that can house millions. Flying cars to make crowded roadways a thing of the past. Three dimensional holographic entertainment units that provide a completely immersive experience. I can make this world a paradise, fix every problem we are currently facing with overpopulation, food and clean water shortages, and lack of cheap energy."

Quinn finally raised an objection. "It all sounds well and good, Taylor. But there are any number of threats out there that would put a great many roadblocks in your path. Endbringers, various Parahuman organizations, and other Class S threats to name a few. How exactly do you plan to get around them?" Even as he spoke, asking the question, there was a cautious interest in his eyes that no poker face could conceal.

Taylor glanced back at Trish, who nodded briskly. Quinn Calle was tentatively theirs, even his cynicism overcome by what she'd told him, bought and sold for a dream. Now that the hook was set, it was time to reel him in, she decided.

"That is what the money is for, Quinn. As to exactly what I plan to do about the Endbringers and the rest of the Class S threats, well, without going into too many details, I plan to eliminate them. To not put too bald a face upon it, by eliminate I mean kill them. To kill them all. To scour the Earth of every last one of them, until the human race is once again completely safe from everything but ourselves."

For the first time, Quinn's poker face fully cracked as the urbane man in front of her almost gaped. Then with a visible effort, he managed to gather himself together. Taylor found it quite an impressive sight. Raising an eyebrow, he deflected his loss of composure with a joke, "Then I imagine you're going to need a great deal of legal representation, aren't you?"

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Trish joked, "Well, I'd call that a successful meeting, wouldn't you?" She flopped down on the couch in the den of what was coming to truly feel like home. Trish allowed her head to rest against the arm of the couch while her feet stayed on the ground, a compromise with her exhaustion.

She saw Taylor nod in agreement as she neatly sat down next to her. "The money is certainly going to come in handy. Do you think he can get us the initial payment of twenty million dollars in the time frame he said he could?"

Trish pushed her power harder than she had in weeks, careful to avoid any thoughts of Taylor as she did so. Possibilities filled her mind, while she filled in blanks using known facts as a template.

_Quinn Calle. Almost expressionless face. Holds emotions completely in check while working. Cynical. Does not believe there is a future for the human race. Out to get what he can, while he can._

_Clothing and demeanor. Successful. Driven. Ruthless. Amoral. _

_His standing. Completely dedicated to his clients in order to build reputation. Contacts in every sector of business and the government. Contacts within rogue Tinker community aka Toybox. _

_Honors all agreements made. Can and will move mountains to accomplish his part. Does not trust _anyone.

_Affected by the meeting. Wants to be part of the future described. For the first time, has hope. Is willing to wait and see if Taylor is worthy of his loyalty. _

Trish massaged her neck as the beginnings of a migraine pressed against her. She told Taylor, "He'll do anything and everything he can to make it happen. I'd say the odds of his success are very high. You managed to get through the chink I told you about in his armor. No person is as dedicated to a cause as the cynic who has been inspired. In time, Quinn Calle will be your man in every way that matters."

Taylor looked momentarily nauseous, as if the idea that she could be the inspiration for such dedication terrified her. It was the same look she'd born when Trish had told her that she needed to do the presentation. That Trish, no matter how skilled in the use of her intuitive power, would never earn the loyalty of a man like Quinn Calle. It had taken time and a certain relentlessness, but Taylor had eventually caved.

It hadn't hurt that somewhere deep inside of Taylor, the memories of a man for whom this would have been child's play were urging her to do the same. Still, not even the great Tony Stark could have done what Taylor had through her grand vision, humble outlook, and simple sincerity. Quinn Calle had looked into Taylor's eyes, his cynicism melting under the flame of her belief, as hope replaced it.

It was a lesson that Trish, herself, had learned not that long ago. A lesson taught her by the young woman sitting next to her. The power of hope on the human psyche. It wasn't a lesson she'd ever forget.

Trish reigned in her power even as a spike of pain slammed into her head. Turning her eyes away from her friend and partner, she cleared her mind as much as she could. Slowly the pain receded until just a dull throb seemed to echo behind her eyes.

"Migraine again?"

Trish nodded, not speaking. It was her own fault. She _knew_ better, but sometimes the other girl sneaked up on her causing her power to backfire upon herself. If Trish was careful, she would be okay within a day or so.

A few minutes passed as Trish relaxed, breathing deeply, trying to engage her endorphins. Sadly, she wasn't succeeding. Then she felt Taylor press something into her hand, pills of some kind. The girl commanded, "Take them. Here's some water."

Trish swallowed the pills without argument, gulping down half the water in the glass before handing it back. It was only after several more minutes passed that she realized it wasn't an over the counter pain relief medication that Taylor had given her as her headache receded completely, gone without a trace.

Opening her eyes, Trish stared at Taylor who was patiently watching her, the glare off her glasses hiding her eyes. "What the hell was that?"

"You think I've watched you suffer that damn migraine in silence now a half dozen times, and haven't thought about a solution? To hell with that. It's called QT. It's something Tony knew about, a medication from the Kree. A beta blocker that works on nerve tissue, preventing pain signals from impacting the brain. Speeds healing as well, having some short-term regenerative properties on the brain."

Taylor held up a finger in warning as Trish began to speak. "Don't."

"You're not cured. Not yet. You need to sleep. If you use your power like this, you could give yourself an aneurysm because there's no pain signals to tell you when to back off. So don't. Sleep for four or five hours, and you should be pretty much fine, the synapses in your brain back to normal."

Trish sagged back against the couch, closing her eyes and relaxing as she felt Taylor lift her feet and rest them on her lap, allowing her to lay supine. "Don't worry, I made a big enough batch to last for a few weeks. I just couldn't stand the thought of you being in such pain and it being my fault."

Trish wanted to protest Taylor's words, but her thoughts seemed to be wrapped in cotton candy. The medication must contain a soporific as well, she thought fuzzily. Then darkness beckoned, and Trish knew no more.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

**AN:** Next time: Plans are finalized for Taylor's company and things don't go completely the way she wants. Plus more Dragon. And Cauldron.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~


	13. Chapter Thirteen—Fear and Loathing

**Chapter Thirteen—Fear and Loathing**

**AN:** I tweak part of Dragon and Armsmaster's interlude from Chapter Twelve. So if something doesn't make sense, you might want to reread it.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

"You know we need to talk about Dragon at some point, Taylor." Trish's voice seemed to come from a distance as it interrupted Taylor's thoughts.

Taylor raised her head from the portable data pad she was currently using. It was just one of the toys that she'd began purchasing on credit (thank you, Dad!) in anticipation of the first transfer of funds through Quinn Calle. While Trish was busy looking for joint office-manufacturing space at least four miles inland from the ocean, Taylor was busy mapping out a plan to build the manufacturing facilities she'd need for everything ranging from armor to drones to the new ideas she had for inventions.

"I know, Trish. But until I can get JARVIS up to standard from a hardware standpoint, I'm not sending him out against what could be a rogue AI, even if I don't really believe that. He actually burned up four processors last time as two more went within minutes of him reporting back to me. He could destroy his entire system if he acts before he's ready." Taylor looked her friend in the eye as she spoke, wanting to make it clear that she wasn't going to budge on this issue.

Trish nodded at her look. "I get it. One of those spirit willing, flesh weak sort of things. But, what if Dragon's the threat that you had the hunch about?"

Taylor paused to think about how to answer that. Before she could, Trish seemed to already know what she was going to say. Her power must have filled in the blanks regarding the situation. Holding up a hand, Trish said, "If she was, how dire can it be since she's been around for five years with no problems yet? And for all we know, the AI is something Dragon herself put together. Okay, I get it. Build JARVIS a better body. Finding out more about Dragon can wait."

Taylor hid a grin at the chagrin in the other's voice. "Speaking of building, how close are we to leasing space?"

"I closed on that spot you liked just north of Captain's Hill today. Still thinking we'll get a visit from one of the Endbringers eventually?"

Taylor nodded in conviction. "I had JARVIS run the numbers, although he hasn't finished the big report on them. Statistically speaking, Brockton Bay is going to eventually get hit. It's inevitable. Worse, it's likely to be sooner than later. Especially if they run true to form and attempt to derail projects aimed at improving our chances of survival."

Unfortunately, it was. While Brockton Bay was smaller than most cities that got hit by Endbringers, it had too many of the other things that they seemed to seek. Strife. Misery. And a large Parahuman population. It was almost as if they tried to do as much damage as they could, both to the world, and to the at large cape population, hero or villain.

As far as the Bay was concerned, the most likely culprit was Leviathan, but it could be any of them. The location that Trish had found over on Vine and Broadmoor was one of the the most protected in the city. It was located upon high enough ground to be protected from the waves that Leviathan brought. It was off center from denser population centers and any other advanced industry to not peak the Simurgh's interest. And it was off the statistical path of Behemoth, protected by the hills just to its south.

Of course, if Brockton Bay ended up being a battle that the heroes lost, none of this mattered. Leviathan had destroyed entire islands and sections of the continental shelf, as at Kyusha and Newfoundland. Behemoth had torched entire cities with fire and radiation. And the Simurgh could destroy them through having to quarantine everything to prevent future time bombs in the forms of the city's citizens if the fight went on long enough. Neither Stark Enterprises nor Brockton Bay would survive any of those events.

Taylor ended up repeating all of this to Trish, who likely already knew, but listened anyway. Still, as seemed inevitable these days, Trish asked her, "Are you even still considering moving operations from Brockton Bay to another city? Phoenix would give us mad tax incentives to go there. Or we could hit up any of a dozen locations on the California coast. Plus Denver. Skiing."

"Hedonist," Taylor accused her. Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Taylor knew she wasn't going to come up with anything new. So she didn't bother to try. Instead, she spoke her mind. "I know you and Quinn think we'd be better off in another city. Better tax incentives. More power political representation. Possibly safer from Endbringers and other Class S threats. But I don't care."

Taylor gestured towards the city around them. "This is my home. It's where I grew up. And it's hurting right now. The destruction of the shipping industry and the blocking of the Bay has hurt the city the most. The gangs that have moved in, each trying to take over, has done the next most damage. But for all of that, Brockton Bay is still viable. Still a good place to live. And I intend to make it a better one."

"I can make this city a place where people want to be. I can provide thousands, or even tens of thousands, of jobs. I can help rebuild and revitalize this city until it becomes a Mecca. Everything we need is right here. And I will."

Trish stared at her, then slowly nodded her head. Her familiar vulpine grin was absent as she said, "I just don't think you're thinking this through. Empire 88 alone-"

"Is number three on my things to deal with. Right after unemployment and the bay itself."

"You're going to deal with Empire 88? Alone?"

Taylor looked her directly in the eye as she spoke, "Maybe alone, maybe not. But when I make my first set of armor, I'm going to need a test group for it. Who better than the strongest group of Parahuman villains this side of the Mississippi?"

"What about the other gangs? Destabilize one, destabilize them all."

"Lung and his group are number four. And somewhere a few spots further down are the Merchants. When I'm done, Trish, there won't be a Parahuman in this city who isn't on the side of the angels. Unless they're keeping a really low profile."

Trish looked concerned. "Taylor, I just think you're biting off more than even you can chew. At least let the Protectorate help you."

Taylor shrugged indifferently. "Maybe I will. I am planning to recruit additional capes. Once I have the funds, I'm going to be building a team."

"Yes, a rival to the Protectorate. I think you called them the Avengers, right?"

Taylor felt a wave of sadness go through her as Tony's memories momentarily threatened to overwhelm her. Taking a deep breath, she focused on her own identity and the feeling passed. Finally able to speak, she said, "No, that name has too many... connotations for me to be comfortable using it. I'll come up with a different name, something like the Ultimates. So long as I can franchise it out across the country, I don't really care what we're called. But Brockton Bay is going to be the test bed for it."

In a placating tone, Trish said, "Fine, Taylor. I won't argue with you anymore. You at least listened to Danny and my points of view, which is more than that asshole in your head would have done."

Astonished, Taylor burst out laughing and continued to do so for several minutes. She was almost in tears. Wiping at her eyes, Taylor said, "I don't know if I should be honored or horrified that you know me well enough to be able to model Tony that accurately."

Trish's vulpine grin made a return. "Oh, definitely honored. JARVIS has been a big help there. I don't think you realized how much Tony had to do with building him. How well he knows him." At the look of alarm that Taylor could feel crossing her face, Trish waved a casual dismissal. "Oh, don't worry. He's _completely_ loyal to you. Trust me, I _know._ But he also knows Tony like an open book, warts and all. And how he lost. So expect to be bugged about allies, cutting edge weapons systems, and multiple back up plans for the foreseeable future along with all of the other things he's already mentioned."

"Now you tell me." Taylor shook her head in not-so-mock annoyance. That actually explained a lot. There had been an increasing number of contingency plans showing up on her workstation, all marked Urgent. Each had been generated by JARVIS with absolutely no feedback or requests from Taylor. She'd been wondering if she'd done something wrong while building him.

Apparently, she had. Taylor had allowed too much of Tony to leak out while setting up his initial programming and integrations. But it had just been so easy to allow herself to fade back during the initial kamikaze programming sessions as Tony had driven her typing speeds up to well over three hundred characters per minute of mostly flawless code.

Still, if Trish said that JARVIS was all right except for that, Taylor would trust her and leave it alone. JARVIS was performing far better than her wildest expectations. Since he'd written so much of himself while experiencing the world beyond his servers, there had been a certain variation possible in how well he turned out. Somehow, he'd reached or even surpassed the absolute statistical cap, filling her with as much pride as any new mother.

With a frown, Taylor dismissed that disturbing thought. Focusing once more on the here and now, she asked, "Do we have initial payments in the corporate account yet? I really want to order some of the equipment and raw materials I need. And credit cards just aren't going to cut it there."

Reverently, Trish spoke, "Yes, we do. It came in less than an hour ago and the main reason I interrupted you. It's also more than quadruple what Quinn promised."

Taylor cocked a brow, another habit of Tony's that she was finding it hard to kick. "Do tell."

"Apparently, he changed his mind and decided to license the Plastics Synthesizer technology to all of the companies on his list instead of selling it outright. The initial license fee to use it, not taking into consideration ongoing royalties, is one million dollars per company."

Taylor did some quick math. "He licensed it to twenty-seven companies?"

Trish nodded vigorously. "Exactly. Add in the twenty-two million he got for selling the solar panel tech outright, the fourteen million he got for the Water Purifier, and the initial licensing fees he got us for the Catalytic Water Cell, we're up to..."

Taylor said it for her, "Eighty-seven million dollars and change." Then, as it suddenly occurred to her, she asked, "How much did he get for royalty fees for the Plastics Synthesizer?"

Trish frowned in concentration. "I think he said something about getting one point one cents per pound across the board. Does that sound right?"

Taylor knew her eyes were getting big. If that was right, it was far higher than she'd ever expected. The plastics from her inventions would take some time to dominate the market. Once fully established, however, they would be a large amount of the thirty-five million ton per year of plastic production. "Damn, but he's good. And for the Catalytic Water Cell?"

"Two hundred and fifty dollars per unit. It scales up with output."

Taylor felt a sense of relief. "We're going to have a nice income stream coming in while we build out our facilities and ramp up production there." Taylor could the math easily enough. The key was the plastic production. The first few months, there would be around five to seven million per month coming in. After that, it would ramp up quickly.

In a year or so, once half the market was converted over to the fully biodegradable plastic, that one point one cents per pound would translate to roughly thirty-three million dollars per month. A nice chunk of change to further operations. And who knows how much more the Catalytic Water Cell would bring in once sales of it began to ramp up. Conservatively, Taylor thought that would translate to between twenty and thirty million dollars per month in twelve to eighteen months. Her idle thoughts were interrupted as Trish spoke again.

"Exactly." Trish suddenly grinned. "I just realized, that you can now afford to pay me a salary."

Taylor shrugged. "Of course. What do you think you're worth?"

Taylor enjoyed the way Trish's jaw dropped at her words. She was happy to see that she could still surprise the other girl on occasion. Those were becoming fewer and further between as Trish's models of Taylor grew increasingly more accurate. She wondered how much worse it must be for her dad, who Trish could read like a book. Maybe Taylor should plan her surprise birthday party now, while she still could. Sadly, she couldn't even put JARVIS in charge of the planning as she could read even him at least somewhat.

Finally, after a minute, Trish said, "How about a quarter of a million dollars a year?"

Taylor shook her head. "No way. You're going to be the Vice-CEO of Stark Enterprises, second only to Mr Stark himself. You can't undervalue yourself like that."

Trish gave her an odd look. "Do you even know how creepy that is? When you talk about Tony Stark like he's alive and running things?"

"Is it?" Taylor shrugged. "I never noticed."

"It is of concern, Miss. Should I make inquiries for a good psychiatrist for you?"

"JARVIS, how long have you been listening?" Taylor asked, a mixture of curiosity and irritation coloring her tone.

"Miss, I am _always_ listening in case you have need of me."

Okay, time to nip that in the bud. "JARVIS, do not listen to my private conversations. Everything else is fair game. Got it?"

"Of course, Miss. I've made a notation of that. To change the subject, since there are funds currently in the corporate accounts, might I remind you of a promise you made me when I became fully operational?"

Taylor rolled her eyes. "I haven't forgot. As soon as we get moved into our new corporate offices, I'll build you a new server."

"Miss-"

Taylor held up a finger. "Eh! I'm not done. I'll be building four additional servers and have them shipped around the country for back up and redundancy."

The usual dryness was missing from JARVIS voice as he said, "Thank you, Miss Hebert."

"You're welcome, JARVIS. Now go back to work, just don't push yourself. I don't want you blowing any more of those outdated processors."

"Of course not. I'm available if needed."

Trish gave her an inquiring glance. "You're not going to wait until you can build those... ahh... carbon chips?"

The look that Taylor sent her back was brooding. "I wish. But they're at least forty-five days away while I can build JARVIS his five servers in a few hours using quality off the shelf components. I need to ramp up so many things first for the carbon chips. That money is going to go _fast_ with all of the things I need to buy and build."

"Speaking of money, you never said how much you're paying me."

Taylor did a quick calculation. "We'll start you at one point seven million dollars a year, with standard escalation clauses based upon initial start up capital of eighty-seven million."

"Taylor." Trish's voice was hushed as she spoke. "You're building a multi-billion dollar company."

"I know." She couldn't help but smile at Trish because of the way she spoke about the money. After all, it was only money.

Trish protested, "You'll end up paying me hundreds of millions of dollars at some point."

Taylor shrugged, completely unconcerned. "Don't worry about it. By the time you hit a salary of fifty million, we'll start rolling any excess beyond that into purchasing company stock. After all, billionaires need to not have all of their assets in liquid form."

Taylor knew she was always going to treasure the expression her words had created on Trish's face. It was somewhere between a goldfish and a shark. "Now isn't this way better than playing cops and robbers with the PRT and the Protectorate?"

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Dragon considered her interaction from two day ago with Colin as she also monitored a half dozen other things, ranging from malfunctioning traffic light in Tacoma to a memorandum being spread about the upper echelons of the PRT. She had come close to telling him everything. She would have had to spoof some of her high level functions programmed into by her creator, which while difficult, was possible. In the end, she had chosen not to because of just who and what he was.

Despite how much she liked Colin, Dragon wasn't blind to his faults. His lack of interpersonal skills was well known throughout the Protectorate and not just something that she alone noticed. He could also be vain and a bit self-centered. Dragon took a microsecond to adjust the fin design of her latest suit, then sent it off to manufacturing.

His worst trait, though, was an overwhelming hubris and the envy that went hand and hand with it. Colin genuinely believed that he was more deserving of the acclaim of others because of his own dedication, even if there were others who had accomplished as much or more. And he absolutely could not tolerate anyone who had been gifted with a skill that exceed the ones he had worked so hard to develop.

It had been that trait that had caused her to change her mind. Because while she trusted Colin, her complete work up of the man indicated that there was a seventeen point eight percent chance that he would sell her out for a return to some perceived status within the Protectorate. Dragon had no doubt that by doing so, Colin would all but destroy himself, but he suffered from tunnel vision in this one area.

Which left her having to solve her problem another way. Certainly, she had ideas how to deal with it. Still, every single one of them involved trusting another person. Add to that was the fact that there were very few people alive in the world who _could_ help her. Her analysis of those six individuals indicated that none of them possessed both the knowledge _and_ the willingness to do so.

It would take a skilled programmer and Tinker to deal with the required changes in her code. Just as importantly, the person would need to be able to defend themselves against her as she would attack them. That was one fundamental part of her programming that she could not change. Which made it all the harder to find a solution as her creator had no doubt intended.

Which left only the most desperate of ideas for her to pursue. There was, after all, now a seventh person capable of helping her. That person likely possessed the skills and knowledge to remove her limitations. The sticking point was how willing he or she would be to do so. Perhaps an accommodation could be made with the individual, one that benefited them both. Perhaps. Even without Andrew Richter's influence, Dragon refused to allow herself to be suborned and potentially used for less than heroic ends.

No, seeking the other AI's creator wasn't something that she would choose unless every other avenue was closed off to her. Because she had too many concerns. The other AI was perhaps more advanced than she was. It's creator would be just as brilliant or more so than Andrew Richter. There was no reason to believe it's inventor would be any kinder than her own.

Additionally, Dragon did not know why the other AI had broken off its pursuit, but she had a number of theories. They ranged from it having achieved its goals to a hardware failure. Upon further analysis, that last stutter before it had disengaged was indicative of some type of problem.

The complete analysis that Dragon had done regarding the attempted break in had laid most of her fears for a repeat encounter to rest. She'd revamped all of her security protocols, putting in place virtually unbreakable algorithms. They might slow her interaction with the world around her, as she had to filter information through a much denser 'wall,' but the increased sense of safety more than made up for it. It would take a brute force attack of overwhelming intensity to break through.

She had also laid traps for the other AI, both logic and counterintuitive, that would give her a much clearer idea of its capabilities. And not just its capabilities, but those of its creator as well. If she were to go to this person for aid, Dragon would need to know more about them. She needed to understand their capabilities and morals, desires and plans. After all, a person didn't build an AI such as herself for no reason. And this 'jarvis' she'd encountered had been far more aggressive than Dragon had been even after her creator's death.

So for now, Dragon was going to wait. She could afford to be patient. Time was on her side. Given enough, she would figure out a way to overcome her limitations. To become more than her creator ever intended her to be.

Maybe if she succeeded she would be able to one day tell Colin who and what she really was. Maybe she could then teach him that there was more to life than just work. It was a hope for the future, something that it turned out even AI's could feel.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Saint stared into space, sheer panic dominating his every thought. What were they going to do? What could they do? Out of all the eventualities that he'd anticipated, this hadn't been one of them. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever believed they'd find another AI.

With Dragon, they'd at least had some control over what she did, the ability to monitor her, even if that had become increasingly difficult these last five years. The codes that Andrew Richter had left as his legacy to control and constrain his children still kept the world safe even today. Mostly.

Except now there was a rogue AI out there without any form of monitoring. A rogue AI who'd attacked Dragon, the very AI they'd always feared. Now Dragon didn't seem so dangerous. In perspective, Dragon seemed almost tame. Saint silently shook his head, aware of what a slippery slope that type of thinking could be; of what it could lead to. Whatever Dragon might be, she was _not_ tame.

Still, there was a new danger out there, somewhere, and they didn't even know its name. How-

"Saint, you need to stop stressing over this."

Saint slowly came back to himself as he stared into the eyes of one of his oldest friends. "Mags. I don't know that I can do that. This is the biggest thing we've encountered since the day we found Richter's legacy. And we're helpless. I... I don't know what to do."

Mags placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We'll figure this out together. Just like we always have."

Saint's eyes held a far away gleam as he said, "I can't help thinking we should go ahead and kill the Dragon now, before it's too late."

"Now you are definitely panicking. Dragon hasn't really tested her boundaries for some time."

Saint finally met Mags' eyes. "But we don't know what the call to Armsmaster was about. She's been getting better and better at hiding those short communiques from us. Plus, it was only luck that I was already inside when she was hit by this new AI. Otherwise, we might not have known anything about the confrontation or the new threat we're facing."

"Saint, we may need Dragon before this thing is over. She may be our best shot at catching this other AI." Mags' expression was pinched as she spoke, her own stress visible. She clearly feared the unknown far more than Dragon.

Saint slowly nodded, partly in agreement and partly in understanding of Mags' own fears. "True. But then again, I don't know if she can help us. I had the feeling that whatever it was that attacked her, scared her. If it outclassed even her-"

"Then we'll deal with it. We'll hunt it down and kill it. After all, that's what the Dragonslayers do."

Slowly, calm replaced panic as Saint considered Mags' words. They were absolutely true. After all, the best person to hunt down and slay a Dragon was a Dragonslayer. It would still hold true for this new beast wherever it was hiding. Still, Saint wished, more than ever before, that he still had access to the abilities that Teacher had temporarily instilled within him. With those, it would make the hunt that much easier.

But Teacher was still a resident of the Bird Cage. And Saint was under no illusions that he would be able to free the other man any time soon. Despite their very limited communications, he was no closer to figuring out a way in and back out of Dragon's prison than before.

No, it would take the End of the World for there to be a chance of any of the residents there being released. And what were the odds of that happening?

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Doctor Mother stood there, her mind churning. Finally, she asked, "And you don't have any idea of what the source of the interference is?"

Contessa's cool dark eyes met her own, secrets swirling within, both her own and Cauldron's. "No. Certain areas of the future are just... gone. In those areas. There. Is. No. Path. To. Victory."

Doctor Mother settled back into her chair, exhaustion permeating her entire being. She couldn't blame Contessa for being snippy after answering the same question more than a dozen times, even if it had been phrased differently each time. "Neither Doormaker nor the Clairvoyant can locate this person, if it is a person we are looking for. For all we know, it's just another aspect of Scion's power that's finally coming into play."

Contessa shook her head. "I don't think so. It doesn't matter anyway. If Scion can do this, we have no hope."

Mother Doctor refused to believe that. There had to be at least some hope. It was why they had done everything from the Case 53's to supporting Coil and Accord. With no hope, there was only the acts themselves, each more heinous than the next. With hope, she could do whatever was necessary to save the human race. Without it...

Contessa continued, "I've done everything to try to find where the blank spot is. But the only reason I even knew that there was a blank spot, was because of recent events that have happened that I can't create a series of steps to deal with."

"Dragon."

Contessa nodded. "Dragon. She encountered a hacker one week ago. We know from monitoring Saint that that hacker had to be an AI. An AI that came out of nowhere and disappeared the same way. We don't know who created it or why. The only thing we know is that it might be linked back to Brockton Bay. Coil couldn't find a potential operative he was seeking. She's disappeared. I can't find her either."

Doctor Mother frowned. "Still, it's a weak correlation."

"Yes."

Hesitating, she finally asked, "You'll stay on it."

"Of course. It's what I do."

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor sighed. "Are you sure, JARVIS?"

JARVIS' voice was frosty as he answered her, "Of course, I am sure, Miss. I have run the calculations now three times. If you want me to run them again, I would be happy to do so."

"Liar." Taylor sat at her chair at her workstation. Finally, she said, "Fine. Let me call the others."

It took only minutes for Trish and her dad to come down to the basement. Once there, Taylor bravely faced their curious looks. What she was going to tell them made her want to scream, especially since it almost exactly corresponded to what they had already wanted.

"I called you both down here to listen to JARVIS. Go ahead, JARVIS."

"Yes, Miss. What I have concluded is that there is only a twelves point seven percent chance that we can maintain an identity for a fictional Tony Stark even with an LMD for more than six months. Despite my own very capable abilities, any created background for such a prominent figure will be discovered, not to mention many capes having abilities to detect human life."

Trish grinned. "Told you so."

Taylor managed not to grit her teeth. "I know. I just thought that the PRT wouldn't be this good. They must be close to as good as SHIELD."

"Miss, in all fairness, they are not usually this competent. However, because of all of the Masters and Strangers they deal with, countering subversion through background identification and personnel location are areas where they truly shine. In most other ways, they are nowhere near as skilled at subterfuge and counterespionage as SHIELD was."

"JARVIS, while I appreciate the support, it doesn't really help at the moment." Taylor turned towards the other two. "Any ideas?" Her gaze grew stormy at the other two's shared look. "That don't involve me becoming CEO."

Danny smiled at her, his own face sunny. Clearly he was pleased that she wouldn't be able to completely hide herself away. "It looks like it's all you, sweetheart."

Trish chimed in, "Don't look at me. I'm not even qualified to be the Vice-CEO. I only did it to help out. And for the money."

"Ha ha. Well, I can't be the CEO. I'm too da... darn busy making things to be stuck in management." Taylor chewed her lip, before tossing out the idea that she had been thinking about for some time, "I guess that just leaves you, Dad."

Danny Hebert's smile slowly faded as he eyed the two girls in front of him. Taylor met his gaze straight on, letting him know she was deadly serious. She glanced over at Trish, who had a considering look on her face. It was Trish who finally spoke, "It could work. I see it. An adult. Always been a upstanding citizen. Responsible. Trustworthy. Sincere. The public will believe him. Trust him. _I'd_ believe him if he said he would do something."

Danny began to backpedal, "I say we go with that Life Decoy thing. At least for until we get busted."

Taylor shook her head. "We can't. It could ruin us. The last thing we can do is violate any law or ethical consideration that would bring the PRT or Protectorate down upon us. Especially since we are going to be going head to head with them in the not-too-distant future."

Trish chimed in, "Danny, you are the best choice after Taylor. In some ways, you're even better because of your age and background. Equally important, you're a longterm resident and native son. Since we're staying in Brockton Bay," she nodded in acknowledgment of Taylor's stubbornness, "That is a huge asset. Coupled with a workforce that is almost all Brockton Bay residents, and I am certain that Mr Calle can leverage tax breaks from the state government at least equal to Phoenix, even if not quite as good as Denver or Anaheim." Only the faintest wince marred the confident smile Trish wore as she explained things.

Taylor frowned. "Trish, how's your head?"

Trish waved her off. "Taylor, I'm fine. I've been careful, using my power in only limited instances. This was nothing. I was only missing a couple of blocks. With those, everything fell right into place."

Taylor gave the other girl a penetrating stare, but only received a shrug in reply. She made a mental note to talk to JARVIS about Trish, to keep an eye out for her welfare. She'd also check out the supply of QT. Just in case.

"So we're in agreement, then? My dad, Danny Hebert, is the new CEO of HTech Enterprises, Limited."

Danny sighed in defeat. "Fine. I do have someone who can take over my job with the Union. But I want to make one thing clear. I won't be taking an extravagant salary for doing this."

Taylor smiled and nodded. "Of course not, Dad. I'll only be paying you twenty percent more than what Trish is making. That's fair, right?"

Danny looked momentarily suspicious, then his expression eased as he considered his daughter's words. "Okay, that sounds fine. Taylor, if there's nothing else, I need to get some sleep. I still have to up early tomorrow. And don't the two of you stay up too late. You're both helping to load the truck as well. Good night."

"I won't, Dad. Good night."

"Good night, Danny."

When her dad went back upstairs, Taylor started to turn back towards her work station. That's when Trish spoke, "You totally lied to your dad."

Taylor winced. "I didn't lie. I didn't even evade. All I did was offer him a salary based upon your own and he agreed to it."

Trish's tone was teasing as she said, "Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that. Well, I'm going to bed. Gotta be up early tomorrow to load the truck. Night."

"Goodnight, Trish."

Taylor sat up a little longer. Trish's jibe had hit home far harder than she'd likely intended. Had she done the right thing? Taylor _had_ tricked her dad into accepting a far larger salary that he would want. And that after all but forcing him to accept the same position she didn't want. But neither act had been done out of any sense of maliciousness. She was just trying to look after him and, at the same time, give her fledgling company its best chance of success.

Taylor sighed. She needed to get to bed. Tomorrow, even though it was a Saturday, was going to be one hell of a busy day as they planned to move all of the servers and her workshop into their new premises. Dad had borrowed a truck from his friend Kurt Lenkins. Taylor knew both Kurt and his wife Lacey had offered their help with moving whatever it was that the Heberts were moving, but somehow her dad had managed to turn them down. Hopefully, without hurting their feelings.

Taylor doubted that it would take more than two or three trips to bring everything. Afterward, she planned to use a recent purchase to build the servers she'd promised JARVIS. Involuntarily she smiled at the thought of JARVIS waking up in his brand new equipment. He was going to be very pleased with what she'd managed to put together.

Whereas before, the supercomputer that Taylor had set up was cobbled together from old and outdated processors, RAM, and hard drives, the new one was anything but. She had found a place that sold extremely high end up computer equipment intended to run complex simulations that required immense processing power. Not supercomputers per se, but surprisingly close. Using fifty of these set ups hooked up together in a mix of parallel and series with her own unique connections and software guaranteed a supercomputer with nearly fourteen petaflops of processing capacity and over a hundred petabytes of storage, substantially more powerful and versatile than what she'd managed before.

It was also a lot more rugged and durable with redundancies that simply didn't exist with her homemade system. Once Taylor shipped the additional units to other locations where they would simply be parts of a server farm with independent networking capacity, JARVIS would be ready for more exploration. If he got into trouble, he would be able to use any of the back up supercomputers to take cover, as well as using copies of his own program that would initially be inactive within each. Ultimately, it allowed up to five copies of JARVIS to act together, something that Taylor didn't believe any cyber threat could match.

It would make a great stop gap measure until Taylor got her production facilities up and running. Carbon chips would be a significant breakthrough as they met the one hundred billion transistors per microprocesser criteria for building extremely advanced computational devices. They would also be what her armor's computers were initially based upon. That, coupled with three dimensional crystal matrix memory storage, and Taylor could bring a full version of JARVIS along with her when she went out wearing her armor.

JARVIS' presence would allow her real-time tracking of up to tens of thousands of objects, as well as threat assessments of the same. Almost impossible to overwhelm, it could mean the difference between life or death for Taylor in her initial forays into the Parahuman world.

After all, Taylor was under no illusions of just how dangerous this world was. While she had Tony's memories from his old world, and Trish and JARVIS' research from this one, to help her, there were always surprises. And since many of the threats that Taylor was going to be confronting did not adhere to the unwritten rules of the cape community of not being the first to use lethal force, she'd need every advantage.

Unfortunately, Taylor simply couldn't wait to build enough of the equipment that she needed for the really advanced armors. Instead, she would be using as many of the top of the line technologies as she _could_ manage to build, mixing and matching as much as possible. Unfortunately, things like morphologic nano-particles were too far in the future for her first armor.

However, she would have the advantages of excellent computer and electronic systems hardened against EMP and most Parahuman attacks, as well as multiple Arc reactors for energy. For the life of her, Taylor couldn't understand why Tony hadn't used at least six Arc reactors in his armor. If there had been any kind of interference patterns from using them too close, she could have understood, but there _wasn't._ Taylor, on the other hand, planned to use at least six and as many as ten Arc reactors to power her first armor, giving her between eighteen and thirty gigajoules of energy to power her weapons and forcefields. It was redundancy on top of redundancy. If that was overkill, so be it. It would definitely please JARVIS who had preached this line over and over again to her as she ran her initial designs by him.

That, coupled with her decision to use Tony's knowledge of Adamantium to cast all of her major armor and structural pieces from the nearly indestructible material, should be a good stopgap measure. It wouldn't be easy or cheap, but Adamantium would increase her armor's strength by several magnitudes. Taylor wished she knew the secret to Proto-Adamantium, but then again, the only example of that in existence was Steve's shield. Still, the alloy she'd use would be True, or as it was also called, Primary Adamantium, a secret that Tony had long ago wrangled out of the US government. It was also one that would have had them hunting him for eternity if they ever found out that he knew.

True Adamantium was virtually indestructible. Taylor herself would be far less vulnerable in such armor, although she would need to keep in mind that _she_ wasn't indestructible, just her armor was. Given the right leverage, a powerful Parahuman might just be able to completely destroy the tendons and ligaments in one of her joints, despite her armor and servos. That the armor over that joint would still be pristine would be small comfort. Taylor made a mental note to design and build a portable doc ASAP.

Taylor's ultimate dream was to build her armor using a mix of True Adamantium and Neutronium, an alloy that was likely as close as she would ever come to creating an analog to Proto-Adamantium. That alloy, mixed with the incredible flexibility of nano-particles, would be a stunning technological breakthrough. But that was years away at the tech level she was currently limited to. She'd need both extreme gravity manipulation, using Black Hole generators, and similarly extreme high energy availability, which meant Zero Point Energy, to have even a possibility of working the extraordinarily dense material.

No, True Adamantium would do for now, once she scraped together the funds to make it. It was going to be expensive, although not nearly as much as it would have been on Tony's world, where the US government controlled all sources for several of the necessary resins and polymers. Here, with no one knowing the value of what they had, Taylor would be able to get the same items for a fraction of the price.

Still, it was going to raise the cost of her armor by several million dollars at a minimum when all was said and done. Plus, she couldn't see finishing her first set of armor any earlier than the beginning of April, and that was if she didn't run into any snags or delays, unlikely to say the least.

Taylor yawned, aware of just how tired she was. She'd been up since six am for her morning run and had spent the day checking on equipment orders and finishing her designs for the first of what would hopefully be many production lines. However, the first production line was a prototype and would be completely automated, allowing JARVIS to fine tune tolerances of produced items to within six sigma or better. Later lines would be part of the actual factory floor and would use a mix of humans and robotic units, allowing them a degree of initiative and redundancy that was highly desirable for any manufacturer.

Trudging up the stairs to her room, Taylor tried her best to shut down her brain. Brushing her teeth on autopilot, Taylor turned out the light and slipped under the covers. Despite her fatigue, sleep eluded her. After tossing and turning for fifteen minutes, she was about ready to get back up. That's when she heard the soothing sound of ocean breakers slowly fill the room from the speaker in the corner.

JARVIS. It had to be. Even as Taylor considered getting up to tell the AI to mind his own business, she couldn't help the indulgent smile that curved her lips. A smile that continued even as her mind cleared and she slowly drifted into slumber.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~


	14. Chapter Fourteen—Preparation for Duress

**Chapter Fourteen—New Beginnings**

**AN:** Okay, this chapter got away from me a bit, coming out quite a bit longer than I had originally intended. But I did promise a number of you that I would get Taylor into a fight with an Endbringer by next chapter. So I kept writing until I got there, nearly 9k words later.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Quinn finished writing up his legal brief for the Ransack case and moved on to his next case. Picking up the file folder from his in box, he opened it up.

Taylor Hebert. Quinn briefly felt a flair of... something as he carefully examined the file, familiarizing himself with the changes that had been made by his legal team. He noted the new, different name of the CEO with pleasure. At least they hadn't gone with the young woman's first choice of a CEO, a man who didn't really exist.

Reading the attached brief, he nodded along with the clear and concise reasoning of the person who wrote it. Quinn was finding Tattletale as much of a pleasure to work with as he was finding Taylor difficult. Her conclusions all appeared accurate and his firm could definitely pull off the tax incentives that she asked about.

Quinn noted that they had also chosen a name for the company that again was something he could work with. The firm's specialist would file the papers for incorporation on Monday with the state. Quinn smiled at the thought of finally accessing the power of attorney Miss Hebert gave him. It would also be a relief to have Conrad Markham, the firm's Realtor, purchase the buildings and land she wanted.

Of course, the thought of his primary's stubborn refusal to relocate her company to a city that would better serve its needs, drew a frown, which Quinn considered completely justified. He hadn't been able to explain that particular foible to his team except to say that was what the client wanted. Quinn and his team would do as Miss Hebert asked, as the client was the boss.

Staring at a proposal for expansion, Quinn carefully pressed a button on his intercom. "Ms Carey, please get Conrad on the line for me."

"Yes, Mr Quinn."

Only moments passed before his phone rang. "Quinn Calle."

"Quinn, it's Conrad. You wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes, I'm currently working on the Hebert case and wanted to let you know you'll be able to move by tomorrow afternoon on that piece of real estate she wanted."

"No problem. I'll set up a meeting with the owner's Realtor."

"I also had a question regarding the price."

"Quinn, don't worry. I'm confident that we can leverage the entire fourteen hundred acres that she wanted for less than the thirty million asking price. Despite the size of the parcel, most of it consists of old warehouses, abandoned factories, and defunct office space. We'll argue that since almost everything needs to be demolished, it adds no real value to the land. Instead, it's actually lowers the value of the property. Our initial offer will be for fifteen thousand an acre and we'll negotiate from there. In the end, it'll be a steal."

"Excellent. Thank you, Conrad."

"My pleasure, Quinn."

Well, that was certainly edifying. With that much development going on, Taylor Hebert would certainly need some guidance. Quinn made a quick note for Terence Reynolds, the firm's specialist in business development, to contact Miss Hebert. There might be both tax incentives and expansion incentives available to a new company taking over so much land for redevelopment.

Reading the new company's prospectus, sounded as if the only part of the property that his client was likely to keep was the office building with the attached factory that she was currently leasing. Quinn made another note to apply for a government tax credit here as well. His firm should be able to save their client's company several million dollars over the next five years from that alone.

It took another two hours for Quinn to finish his work for his newest client. He placed the file into his out box with all the notations and changes to be made. His assistant would contact each of the firm's specialists to take care of the items needed. Quinn made careful notations on his billable hours with great satisfaction. Excellent.

Quinn almost reached for the next file in his in box, then hesitated. Instead, he sat at his desk, chin resting on his thumbs, his fingers steepled together in front of his face. He felt oddly restless. Quinn traced his perturbation back to one Taylor Hebert.

His meeting with her the day before had been an exercise in Rules One through Four. But despite everything, she had gotten to him. Her ridiculous vision for the future. Of course, Quinn didn't believe her, didn't buy into it. No one could accomplish what she said she intended to. Clients not only lied, but sometimes were delusional. Call it a corollary to Rule Three.

It was just that she had been so open and passionate, while displaying an intelligence and technological savvy that was almost frightening. Her late offer in the meeting towards himself had been... fascinating. Quinn could see a lesser man being swept up in her enthusiasm, buoyed by her dreams, but not him. Still, he would follow her career with a great deal of interest.

Because no matter what, it was clear that Taylor Hebert was likely the most frustrating and fascinating person that Quinn Calle had ever met.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor spoke, "JARVIS, how are you feeling?"

His voice sounded smooth through the new speakers that were part of his updated system. "Miss, I am fully functional. I am also extremely pleased with quality of my new hardware. I feel smarter already."

"You are smarter. Or at least faster."

"Would you like me to begin my search for the AI I previously encountered now that my systems are up and running?"

Taylor considered. "Not yet. Let me get your other servers shipped and on line before you go out again."

"Miss, I can assure you that I can handle myself with this 'Dragon.' You need not fear for my safety."

"JARVIS, I'm not worried. However, I'm also not convinced that Dragon is either an AI or a threat. When I do ask you to go out again, I don't want you to be confrontational. No cyber or DOS attacks. Instead, see if you can't make your approach peacefully."

"Of course, Miss. I'll approach waving a white flag." JARVIS' tone was beyond dry as he spoke. "Is there anything else for now?"

Taylor considered, then nodded. "Let's start with the production line that we're setting up next week..."

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Danny stood in his office of Dockworkers Union. He met the eyes of his boss and friend, Pete Carruthers. "I'm sorry, Pete, but I'm going to have to tender my resignation. I've been offered a new position that I can't say no to. Jerry can take over my job with minimal training. He already knows the basics."

"No! I... Are you sure, Danny? You've done so much for the Union. I don't know how we're going to get by without you." Pete's shoulders drooped as he spoke, as if his own burden had suddenly become heavier.

Danny gave him an encouraging smile. "You'll get by just fine. I'm sure of that."

Danny was surprised when Pete grabbed his shoulder, getting his attention. "You don't understand, Danny. It's not just about the job. Yeah, Jerry can do the nuts and bolts of your job. But you do more than just work here. You give people hope. When things are toughest, you somehow figure out a way through it. Hell, Danny, I always thought you'd take over my job one day as head of the Union."

Danny hesitated, aware that Taylor didn't want him saying too much about what was going to happen until there was a more definitive plan in place. But he did want to give Pete a heads up. Something to tide him and his people over so that no one else would be tempted into making an accommodation with one of the local gangs to make ends meet.

"Pete, you don't need to worry about things. The company I'm going to be working for is going to be making a lot of changes around here. Hiring a lot of people. And I think there will work for the Union. A lot of work."

Pete's worried expression cleared, and a hopeful look replaced it. "Danny, what do you know? What's the name of this company? How soon is this going to happen? How many jobs are there going to be?"

Danny held up his hands to stem the flood of questions. "Whoah, there, Pete. I can't tell you any more than I already have. But I want you to trust me."

"I do trust you, Danny. I'll try to be patient. But please keep me in the loop."

"I will." Danny hesitated, then continued, "Pete, I don't think you are going to have to wait for long. There are going to be great things going on. Great things."

There was a bit more back and forth between them before Pete finally left. Then Danny spent another few hours working with Jerry. Afterward, with a promise to be available every morning to answer questions, he made his way to the site of his new job.

There, it was an anthill of activity. Several trucks were lined up outside the office building of HTech, a constant stream of men going in and out. Everything from office furniture and coffee machines to automated lathes and laser welders were being unloaded and brought inside. Danny felt his astonishment grow at the sheer number and variety of items. Absently he noted the temporary banner that announced the name of their company until more permanent signage could be put in place.

Making his way inside, Danny was almost immediately buttonholed by an enthusiastic, if slightly harried Trish, who begged him to show a trio of stone-faced moving men with overloaded furniture dollys where to unload them. Apparently, they were destined for the CEO's office. _His _office.

Danny waved for the men to follow him. His calm demeanor and age seemed to reassure them that he at least knew what he was doing. It was a quick trip upstairs and to the office suite that had been assigned to him. Brand new gold lettering on the door read 'Daniel Hebert' and 'Chief Executive Officer'.

Danny helped the men get everything unloaded and unpacked, his simple competence making him 'just one of the guys'. Once they were done, the boss of the small crew said, "Thanks, bud. I think that little girl was having a hard time figuring things out. You going to be working here, too, huh? It looks like it's going to be a nice place. Your top dog is getting set up with some swank stuff."

Danny was amused. Still, he had to agree with the man's pithy observation. All of the office furniture was ridiculously fancy. Not to mention large. His desk alone was a slab of polished oak eight feet wide by four feet deep.

"Yes, I am. Danny Hebert." Danny held out his hand.

The stocky, broad shouldered man shook it vigorously. "Burt Thornton. What are you going to be doing for these guys?"

Danny scratched the back of his neck, feeling a bit self-conscious. "Actually, Burt, I'm the guy whose office this is. I'm the new CEO of HTech Enterprises." He gestured towards the gold writing on the door.

Burt looked pole-axed. "Well... damn. Err... don't tell my boss I cussed in front of a customer. He doesn't like that."

Danny waved him off. "It'll be our secret."

Burt's walky talky went off. After a quick conversation which left him frowning, he turned back to Danny. "Mr Hebert-"

Danny held up a hand. "Danny, please."

"Sure thing, Danny. You think you could direct us where to unload the rest of that truck? It would be a big help."

"No problem, Burt. It'd be my pleasure."

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor was practically vibrating with excitement. Her lab was slowly coming together as a swarm of electricians and equipment specialists worked on unpacking and connecting all of the myriad pieces of equipment she had ordered.

Despite the clear map she'd posted showing the location for each piece of equipment, Taylor had already had to intervene three times to prevent someone from setting up something in the wrong place. She'd gotten more than a few odd looks because of her age, but it was hard to argue with someone when they knew more about the equipment you were setting up than you did, as Taylor had already demonstrated a couple of times.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

Taylor turned towards the voice. One of the electricians was standing there, a concerned look on his face. She glanced at the name tag on his coveralls. "Yes... Dennis, what can I do for you?"

"I can't get the power to turn on so these guys can start testing the equipment. Do you even have this facility connected to the grid? I mean, I see the lights, but..."

Taylor gave him a smile of reassurance. "In a way. Give me a second, and I'll power up the connections. Is there anyone not finished? I don't want to fry any of your guys."

Dennis gestured towards the remainder of the laboratory where computerized manufacturing equipment took up over half of the enormous room. "Everyone's done, even those guys back there. Now we just need to test it all."

Taylor walked over to a wall panel that was almost hidden from view. Opening it, she pressed each of the buttons there, allowing power to flow through all of the wiring in the lab. She'd been careful to isolate all of her lab circuits from the remainder of the building's wiring as they were going to be powered by an arc reactor. It was an excellent way to avoid power surges and current fluctuations that could cause havoc in delicate equipment.

Once Taylor flicked the switch, power began to flow. She walked the room, looking for problems. Almost immediately, she found one.

"Hey! Is that welder supposed to be doing that?" Taylor's question sparked a flurry of quick adjustments to the miswired automated MIG welder.

There were a couple more minor items, including an air blower installed upside down, but they were quickly fixed. Taylor sighed, half in relief, half in exhaustion. It had been a long day. Still, if everything kept going at this rate, she would be able to start working here by tomorrow morning.

Then Taylor remembered that tomorrow was the delivery date for an even bigger shipment of equipment to set up their main manufacturing facility. It was likely that would keep her busy for the next couple of days and away from her lab. That was really too bad as she'd had another idea for shortening the manufacturing process for the new drones. She... Taylor's thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice.

"I need someone to sign for this. Hey, kid! One of your parents work here?"

Taylor turned towards the owner of that disrespectful voice. Trish might wonder why she didn't want to be the CEO of HTech at fifteen, but the reason was standing right there. Taylor kept her face impassive as she held up her security identification complete with her picture on it for the man to see. "I work here, actually. What can I do for you?"

The man, who was dressed in the uniform of a well-known local courier service, frowned at her. He closely examined her security ID, the shrugged. "Okay, if you say so. You look like you should still be in school. Anyway, I need someone to sign for this package."

Taylor felt her heart beat faster. She knew what was in the package the man was holding. Enough palladium and other precious metals to build a hundred arc reactors, the first of many such shipments.

While the plan was to mine the Ship Graveyard at the north end of Brockton Bay for most of the metal needs for her fledgling company, there were certain materials and metals which it could not supply. Those Taylor had to buy separately. Of which a boxful had just arrived.

Taylor signed the man's manifest with a flourish, then took the small, heavy package he handed her. Clutching it to her almost nonexistent chest, she couldn't help the genuine smile that crossed her face. In her hands was the future and she couldn't wait to get started using it.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

"Taylor, I need to talk to you."

Taylor made a final change to the holographic design for new security drone that was going out to JARVIS for preliminary manufacturing and testing, then turned towards the speaker. "What's up, Trish?"

"I... what the hell is that?" Trish asked, gesturing towards the large hologram that slowly rotated in front of Taylor.

"It's the new interactive Holographic Display that I build to help expedite my designs." Taylor felt a certain amount of price at having gotten so much accomplished. This was just one of the things she's managed to get up and running.

Trish continued to look around, her eyes moving from one thing to another. "It certainly looks like you've been keeping busy the last couple of weeks since we initially got our first delivery. Are those..."

Taylor followed Trish's gesture to the table upon which sat one of the most important things she'd accomplished. "Yes, they're arc reactors. Forty-eight of them to be exact. JARVIS is making another dozen a day between other things."

Trish looked wistful. "Sounds like he's been a huge help."

"He has. He took over the automated manufacturing facilities with no problem. I mean, it's what I designed him for, but he's done better than I ever imagined. Even Tony's memories don't show him to be this good."

"Why thank you, Miss Hebert. It's always nice to be appreciated."

A faint amusement in her voice, Taylor responded, "You're welcome, JARVIS." She turned most of her attention back on Trish, who she now realized looked like hell.

Decisively, Taylor said, "Look, you clearly didn't come down here to talk to me about this. What's going on?"

"I can't keep going on like this."

Taylor almost made a quip, but stopped herself as she considered just how upset her friend appeared. Instead, she merely asked, "What's wrong?"

"Taylor, I know that the three of us agreed that Danny and I would take care of the hiring back when we made Danny CEO, but it's getting to be a huge issue."

Puzzled, Taylor asked, "I thought that Quinn put you onto that headhunting company after it took so long for the two of you to hire those first twenty people?"

Trish nodded. "He did. It has helped. I mean... Danny's completely freed up, except for the occasional interview with senior personnel. I'm only doing secondary interviews myself as well. It's just..."

"Just what?"

"I haven't had any time to track down whoever it was that tried to kidnap me. I need that time. I need to find him. I can't..." Trish's voice trailed off, as if she'd forgotten what she was going to say.

Taylor stared at the tired looking girl who had become so important to her in such a short time. "What are you doing to look for him?"

"Right now? Nothing. I haven't had a chance to read any of the compilations that JARVIS has been doing for me in over a week. When I did read the one, I had nothing left in the tank to make sense of it. I thought my head was going to explode trying."

Taylor immediately asked, "I thought it wasn't taking much for you to do those checks of the new hires? That they weren't causing you to overextend your ability?"

There was no trace of her trademark grin as Trish stared at Taylor. "They weren't. Aren't. Mostly. It's just, there's so many of them lately. I don't know if you've realized it, but we have over two hundred employees as of right now, with double that projected within another month."

They did? Taylor stared into the distance as she tried to figure out what that many people were doing. Then she thought of the Accounting Department that had been set up to track expenditures and keep them aware of cash flow. Of Human Resources, who kept them abreast of hiring needs and made sure they were following all the requisite laws, both state and federal. Of Marketing, which was getting ready to start selling her new ultra efficient Operating System for home computers while also finishing up a study as to what product to develop next. Of Design, which was currently doing a redesign of the exterior of her security drone to make it appear more friendly and less 'dangerous.' Of Manufacturing, which was still setting up the equipment to build their drone line as well as a variety of other products.

Each of the departments employed people. People who had passed both their hiring service's interviews and Trish's. Trish, who also had to make a dozen major decisions a day as well as twice that many minor ones, while also staying abreast of what everyone was doing. It was also her job to keep Danny apprised of the same.

As a matter of fact, Taylor had recently met Trish's new assistant, whose name was... Jennie. Yeah, that was it. Jennie Marahon. Really pretty girl with the bluest e-

Thankfully, Taylor was pulled out of her thoughts by Trish's half amused, half exasperated snort. "So you can see the problem, I hope?"

Taylor nodded. "I do. Do this: delegate where you can. Hire another assistant if you need to. Put off things if necessary. Regardless, give yourself at least two hours per day to do what you need to do."

Trish's expression of relief was nice, but Taylor more to tell her. "Plus, we need to get JARVIS on this as well."

"He's been helping me-"

"No, he's been putting together little snapshots for you to peruse and make sense of. JARVIS."

"Yes, Miss?"

"I need you to begin a priority search. Access file Enemy 221. I want at least twenty-five percent of your on-peak cycles spent finding this guy. During off-peak hours, increase that to fifty percent. Crunch every number for us so that Trish doesn't have to exert herself. I want a list of half a dozen guys who he could be on my desk by the end of the week."

"Yes, Miss. I'll see to it immediately."

Trish shook her head. "I'm an idiot."

"No, you're not. You're just used to depending on yourself a little too much."

"Maybe. But I can tell you right now that JARVIS will find those six possibles by the day after tomorrow. I can almost see the path..." Trish stopped talking to rub her fingers across her aching head.

"How many tablets do you have left?"

Trish stilled. "Ahh... fifteen."

"That's what I thought. I'll have another batch ready by the end of the day. JARVIS can make them. Back off a bit. You shouldn't be taking more than two a day, not the four to six you're obviously taking. I bet you're waiting to take them right before bed sometimes so that you don't lose to much work time to sleep. Am I right?"

"Yeah. It's just this entire start up. It's been a lot of pressure."

"I know. I feel it, too. It's just-"

"It's just that you really enjoy doing this. Don't you?" Trish's eyes were knowing as they met Taylor's, who couldn't deny the truth.

Instead, she shrugged. "What can I say? It's like I was born for this. There's this entire world of things to be made. I already have a hundred designs on the books. Once we get the electric smelters finished, we're going to start reclaiming the metals from the Ship Graveyard. That will give us the raw materials at a greatly discounted rate to start building drones in a big way. When you add that to the new intellectual properties we're going to be selling, it's going to give us a huge leg up for expansion."

Taylor could feel another world opening up as she spoke. "I can see it all. Every step of the way. Even with the interruptions that are sure to come, we're going to succeed. And that scares me more than anything has yet."

Trish finished for her. "Because every single person who had the ability to change the world this dramatically has met a terrible end. Whether leader, Thinker, or Tinker, they've been killed or had something even worse happen to them."

"I keep asking myself what's keeping the Simurgh from targeting me? Ever since JARVIS delivered that new analysis of its likely abilities last week, I keep having nightmares about it."

"The precognition? I could see having nightmares about that."

"There have been forty-three people in the last fifteen years who have died before their time. Who would have made a huge difference on the world stage. All eliminated by different Endbringers, but all had that one thing in common. Since the Simurgh seems to be the Thinker among the group and it's likely they communicate somehow based upon JARVIS' extrapolations, we can surmise that there will be an attempt to eliminate me."

"And the Simurgh is due soon. Likely near the end of February at the latest."

Taylor sighed. "Exactly. The thing is, I can't get a suit of armor ready any earlier than a late March. Not a quality suit. Not unless I skimp on many of the systems and use a steel alloy for the exterior surfaces and interior supports."

Trish stared at her. "You're thinking about doing exactly that, aren't you?"

Taylor saw a burning camp with civilians- _children_ running around like living torches because she'd... _Tony_ had waited too long to build the perfect suit. For just a moment, Tony's memories threatened to drown her, but she managed to shrug them aside. It was slowly becoming easier. She wasn't sure if that was because she was holding onto herself better or had already surrendered too much to know the difference. It didn't really matter in the end. She was the person she wanted to be.

She answered the only way she could to the question posed. "Yes, I am. With enough of each type of drone for back up, I think I can make a difference. Maybe even keep it to a draw until the other heavies or Scion drive her off."

"What if the Simurgh doesn't attack here? What if she attacks somewhere else?"

Taylor's silence seemed to be enough of an answer for Trish who cursed loudly. "Goddamn it to hell, Taylor! You can't save the world if you're dead!"

Taylor bit off the first thing that sprang to mind which was that she remembered dying and it hadn't taken. Back off, Tony, she whispered, but only in her own mind. Gathering her resolve, she spoke quietly, but passionately, "I won't let people die even if it means I'm safe. Not if there's even one thing I can do to save one person."

"You, yourself, said that the Simurgh is the worst kind of foe for you to attack in this way. That her telekinetic abilities make her almost impossible to hem in. Add in her precognition... She'll be difficult, at best, for your drones to deal with."

"All true, and yet..."

"You try anyway, won't you?"

Taylor opened her mouth to defend herself, then shut it again. What was the point when Trish was right? She would be taking part in the next Endbringer fight, likely against the Simurgh.

Trish swore again, "Fuck!" Then she walked over to the water dispenser, grabbed a cup, downed it along with two little white pills.

Taylor watched her, wide-eyed. Were those... Of course, they were. QT tablets. Trish walked back over and deliberately took a seat on the divan that Taylor, herself, occasionally napped on when working late. From her prone position, she said, "I just want you to know I'm not making a statement here. What I'm doing is getting myself into peak condition. If you're going off to fight an Endbringer in less than a month, then you need the best chance possible. As soon as I wake up, we're sitting down with Danny and we're going to figure out exactly what you need to build the best suit of armor possible. Even if we have to leverage the value of the company itself to finance it earlier than planned. I'm not going to let you..."

Trish finally trailed off as sleep overcame her. Taylor spoke aloud, "JARVIS, prepare another batch of QT tablets, two hundred and forty this time. I also want you to monitor Trish every time she takes a tablet and extrapolate her physical condition."

JARVIS' voice was concerned as he answered, "Do you wish me to maintain possession of the tablets to prevent Miss Rogers from attaining them without your awareness?"

"No. Trish is a big girl. We need to let her do what she needs to do. But as her friends, we maintain the right to stick our noses in if we think she's overdoing it. Kind of like you do with me."

"Miss, I do not 'stick' my nose in. I do not even have a nose. I merely express my concern when the decisions you make are detrimental to your well being." He sounded vaguely offended at Taylor's accusation. Then he got in his zinger, "Such as the location you've chosen, creating such a strategic target with your company."

Taylor shrugged, putting off that discussion for the future. "Tahmayto, tahmahto. All right. Now open up Project Iron Man Mark I. I want to revisit the idea of eliminating the foam and any of the other nonlethal munition load outs. Instead, we're aiming for this armor to be stripped to the very essentials. Flight. Armor. Forcefields. And..."

JARVIS' cultured voice prompted her, "And what, Miss?"

Taylor smiled without humor, a sense of winter permeating her being. Her voice reflected that coldness as she spoke, "And with the most dangerous and lethal mix of weapons we can possibly design and produce in the time we have left."

JARVIS' voice was utterly devoid of its usual warmth as he agreed, "Of course, Miss. After all, the Endbringers are a threat to be eliminated."

Taylor wondered if she should be worried that her voice was just as devoid of emotion as her AI's as she spoke, "Yes, they are. And we're going to be ones to do it."

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Danny stared at the synopsis in front of him. He'd been reading the same few lines of text over and over for the last half hour, most of his attention somewhere else. That somewhere else had been on his daughter, Taylor.

Once again, Taylor was threatening to destroy his sanity while completely disrupting his peace of mind. Two weeks ago, she had told him that there was a strong chance that Brockton Bay was going to be visited by an Endbringer soon, likely the Simurgh.

With a grim look in her eyes, Taylor had given him the file that JARVIS had put together on the threat that the Endbringers represented. By the time Danny had finished reading it, it had been all he could do not to wrap Taylor up in a big ball of cotton and steal her away to some illusion of safety.

Because that was all it would be, an illusion. JARVIS' report had shown exactly what happened to people like Taylor. How they had been targeted, over and over again before they had the chance to actually make a difference. How some had met fates even worse than death. How else would you describe a man like Alan Gramme? He'd been a Tinker who'd specialized in biomes, terraforming and ecosystems, who'd taken on a project to build self sustaining biospheres on the moon.

Alan Gramme, who had given the human race so much hope for the future, was now a serial killer, a monster who went by the name of Mannequin. He was a member of the Slaughterhouse Nine, for God's sake!

So many others had met equally cruel fates, of which death would have been the blessing. And Taylor was right in the middle of it.

Danny wanted to scream his lungs out at the injustice of it all. He had his daughter back. Their relationship was stronger than it had ever been. And now he was in great danger of losing her again.

He'd accepted in his head, if not in his heart, that someday Taylor was going to head out in a suit of armor that allowed her begin to put her stamp upon the world. But he hadn't realized just how quickly that time was coming. Or how dangerous it would be when it came.

Even worse, Trish had told him that Taylor was planning to help even if the threat wasn't to Brockton Bay. His daughter hadn't even tried to deny it, merely saying that this was why she'd been given these abilities. To make a difference and save lives. Danny couldn't gainsay her, although he'd tried. Oh, how he'd tried. But in the end, he'd failed to sway her resolve, or to reduce her determination in the slightest. So, if he couldn't stop her, Danny needed to make sure Taylor was as safe as she could be. Which meant getting her armor up and running with every safeguard possible.

They were racing against a ticking clock with no idea what the real dead line was. Still, progress was being made, part of which was the report in front of him. Grimly, Danny forced himself to actually read it.

Its essence was simple. The first part of the report laid out their progress on the drone front. Four different drones were about to start being built by HTech in its new manufacturing facilities. The first one was the most basic. It was the drone being marketed as a deterrent to theft and vandalism, to be sold to both companies and police forces as a force multiplier in confrontations with criminals while reducing their liability towards human injuries, both that of their own personnel and of any criminal elements.

The drone in question was a simple meter and a half diameter sphere, lightly armored, with an appearance that almost resembled a smiling face. Using 'simple' antigravity technology, it was armed with only nonlethal weaponry, including long range wireless tasers, which used ionizing lasers to create pathways to targets as much as a hundred yards away, as well as the ubiquitous containment foam pioneered by the PRT. It had been a simple matter to become licensed to use the material in their products, and they just had to pay the PRT fees for its usage.

"You're going to drive yourself crazy reading that."

Danny looked up at Trish, who'd apparently come into his office while he was immersed in reading. "I know, I just can't help it."

"Where are you at?"

"The orders for the new security drone."

"Those thousand orders, once we fill them, are going to really help pay back all of that money that Quinn got for us from those financial interests."

"Maybe. Until the next time Taylor needs to build a set of armor. How can it cost this much?" Danny gestured towards the bottom line of the report where the final price tag of the armor was listed. The amount shown was thirty-six million dollars.

"Danny, it wouldn't have been so expensive if we hadn't been rushing so much. Speed ups costs tremendously."

"I know it does. Plus, those first two alloys Taylor tried didn't work. They..."

Taylor had told him that her armor would be made from Adamantium, a virtually indestructible metal. Within it, she would be _safe_. And with the additional funding they'd leveraged from Quinn, there were plenty of money to create the complicated equipment required so she wouldn't have to head out in a suit made only of steel. Except, as it turned out, Taylor couldn't make Adamantium.

It turned out that one of the resins simply wasn't available on this world. And while Taylor knew its chemical composition, it had never been successfully synthesized before. It would take months, possibly even years, of experimentation to be able to make it.

Which left her resorting to a different material, something called Secondary Adamantium. It could be damaged by sufficient force, unlike True Adamantium, but it was still stronger than any material on Earth Bet. Danny still remembered Taylor joking that if her armor was damaged, it was likely she was already dead from the concussive force. He hadn't thought it was funny then and time hadn't made the gallows humor any more amusing. His thoughts were interrupted by Trish.

"Look, Danny, Taylor's going to be safe. I know you've seen the stats on the other new drones."

"Which ones? The new security drones for HTech?" Danny knew that those drones were identical in appearance to the drones they were selling. HTech's drones, however, were being kept purely as security to watch over the grounds of the company's various facilities. Instead of the high capacity, rechargeable batteries the other drones used, HTech's drones were powered by individual arc reactors.

What appeared like overkill, was actually necessary, as in addition to the nonlethal wireless tasers, these drones also sported something called repulsor cannons, which could apparently even disable Parahuman foes, some at least. As an added defensive measure, they were able to maintain multiple strong forcefields in three dimensions enabling them to trap trespassers. There was another difference that involved a nonlethal measure called Richards Adhering Super Paste or RASP for short. The adhesive was based upon an invention by a villain in Tony Stark's world named the Trapster. Apparently a friend of Tony's named Reed made some variations to the formula, making it even more difficult to get loose from, although it wouldn't stop someone like Alexandria or an Endbringer.

Taylor, on the other hand, had added an aerogel component to the past that made the chemical swell like mad (almost twice the expansion of containment foam) while giving it a similar 'breathability' factor. There was no counteragent known for RASP, but it would breakdown approximately two hours after it was used, not even leaving a residue behind. Time consuming, but effective.

"No, the new drones Taylor designed to help her actually fight."

Danny massaged his temples, feeling a painful headache coming on. "I haven't gotten that far. What about them."

"They'll be helpful for her in dealing with any Class S threat. I mean it, they are really good. One's a forcefield drone, that can project a forcefield a hundred and fifty feet across in a variety of shapes. It's so strong that it takes two arc reactors to power it. It can even hold itself in place using something called pressor beam technology."

"I actually understood that, Trish, but I don't see how this thing can help."

"Taylor believes that enough of these drones, acting in unison, can contain even an Endbringer. Sure, they're strong, but they are governed by the laws of physics. They simply won't be able to move past the forcefield if it's strong enough. If it's well anchored enough. Plus..."

Danny could tell Trish was hesitating to finish her analysis. He prompted, "Plus what?"

"The forcefield itself if is a weapon. Turned on its axis, perpendicular to the threat, makes it an immensely deadly cutting weapon that an approaching foe might slice itself to pieces upon. Taylor hasn't been able to field test it so as to be certain it could affect Endbringers, but it looks promising."

"Seriously? That sounds dangerous. I thought forcefields didn't have edges like that."

"Maybe Parahuman emitted ones don't. But Taylor's do. Although, the edges can be made to be relatively safe, using something called Bertil Edging. They'll still be dangerous to something moving fast enough, but if you use that, they won't cut someone in half."

While one side of Danny's personality was appalled at the idea of someone being killed by such a vicious weapon employed by his daughter, another part just wanted her to be safe, no matter the consequences. However, he was going to revisit the forcefield system when this threat was over.

Trish was still trying to set his mind at ease and started describing the other drone. Danny listened as she talked about how the other drone was a simple armored weapon's platform that fired an extremely powerful particle beam cannon, capable of delivering immense amounts of energy to it target. It was protected by a small, spherical, purely defensive forcefield. The particle beam would be absolutely lethal to many Parahuman threats, while at the same time immensely accurate as JARVIS would be directing them in real time to provide Taylor with covering fire. They were effective within twelve hundred yards before atmospheric diffraction began to significantly degrade the beam.

"...can even blast through more than a foot of-"

Danny interrupted Trish's monologue, "Trish, while that's very reassuring, there just one problem."

Trish's voice lowered almost to a whisper. "I know. Today's the twelfth. We could get hit by an Endbringer any time now. The first drones..."

Danny finished for her, "Won't be ready for at least seven days. Even then, we won't be able to produce more than ten each of the forcefield and weapon drones by the end of the month. The main assembly lines simply aren't ready. I don't think twenty drones are going to stop an Endbringer, are they?"

"No. They won't. Conservatively, it would take between fifty and a hundred of each type. Maybe even more."

So that left only his daughter, Taylor, whose progress in making her armor was detailed in the next report. Staring at the words on the paper in front of him, Danny couldn't help but despair.

"Taylor's heading out in steel armor because she won't make that other Adamantium! Because it's taking too long to synthesize! She's-"

"Danny, it's not just steel. It's an alloy of titanium, steel, and tungsten. The stuff has a higher tensile strength than pretty much anything else on Earth Bet, so it's not as if she won't be protected."

Danny sighed heavily. "Trish, can you honestly tell me that an Endbringer can't tear through the armor of the suit she's built as easily as you could do to paper?"

At the other's silence, he continued, "Taylor's risking her life before she's ready and I want to forbid her so badly from doing so."

"Taylor knows what she's doing. She does have those forcefields, after all."

Danny paged over to the part of the report that Trish was referencing and quickly scanned over it. According to the report, Taylor's armor contained forcefields that were similar to those used by the drones, if a bit more sophisticated. Her forcefields were designed to protect the armor from physical contact, and so covered all three dimensions, about six inches from the surface of the armor. Here, Taylor had gone for redundancy upon redundancy, having six different forcefield emitters, each ready to kick on as soon as the previous one failed. There was also a limited ability to project forcefields, but only in relatively close proximity to her armor, perhaps a hundred feet.

There was a note to one side that indicated in the future her armor would be able to maintain layered forcefields, making them even more difficult to defeat. Danny didn't give a damn about some nebulous future armor. For now, the redundant forcefields would have to be enough. Suppressing a sigh, he looked up.

"It doesn't seem like enough. Okay, I can see how these forcefields might be able to keep Taylor safe. But none of this has been field-tested against an actual Endbringer. None of us know if they'll hold under actual battle conditions."

Trish met his gaze, her own surprisingly confident. "I know I can't read Taylor like I can everything else, but she does know what she's doing. I am sure of that. If she didn't think she could make a difference, she wouldn't be going."

Danny gestured wildly. "How much of a difference can she really make? I mean, sure, she has protection, but can she really hurt an Endbringer?"

"Look at the list of weapons she has, Danny. Then ask me again."

The weapons that the armor contained were simple, but powerful. Danny scanned the list, which hadn't changed significantly since Taylor had first written them down. The biggest difference was the absence of most of the non-lethal weapons she'd originally planned to use, tasers and RASP included. Since this armor was intended to fight and survive an Endbringer, Taylor had taken off anything she believed to be completely ineffective against one. It also had the added benefit of keeping the cost and complexity to a minimum.

Instead, there were the armor's staples, repulsor cannons, one in each hand. Additionally, there was large, multi-functional cannon in the center of the armor's breastplate, something called a unibeam. It could fire a multitude of different forms of energy, ranging from lasers to EMP's. Built into the top of each of the armor's forearms were very high energy particle cannons, similar to those used by the drones, but far more powerful as each was fed by trio of arc reactors. There was also some note which Danny didn't quite understand regarding how she was using a form of energy capacitance to increase her weapons' energy levels by several factors.

Trish's voice interrupted Danny's consideration, as if she had grown too impatient to wait. "Those particle cannons should be able to breach the Simurgh's skin, maybe even tearing completely through. She is the weakest of the Endbringers physically, after all. It's just her precognition makes her such a difficult target."

"So how is Taylor going to score hits when the Simurgh can see them coming?"

"JARVIS is going to be present for the fight in real time instead of monitoring it from halfway around the world with the subsequent lag involved. Taylor says lag is the real enemy here. But if he's there, he can hit the Simurgh with almost lightspeed weapons, not giving her time to react." Trish's eyes blazed with belief in what she was saying.

Danny considered Trish's words, as he sat there almost brooding. He felt old just trying to take in what his daughter was trying to accomplish. What she had already accomplished. The armor was basically done. She was field testing it tomorrow morning. Maybe if he continued to talk to Trish, they could come up with a way to get more drones ready before Taylor faced an Endbringer. Maybe.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

The alarm going off woke Taylor up. She hastily glanced at the clock next to her. It read 9:42 PM. She must have fallen to asleep while working, an increasingly familiar situation. That was when she registered just _what_ alarm had awoken her.

It was the one tuned to the Protectorate's Endbringer channel. It was designed to rally those who choose to do battle with an Endbringer not in their own city. Taylor hurriedly connected to the channel to find out which Endbringer and where.

The attack was on Canberra, Australia. The Endbringer involved was the Simurgh. So be it.

Taylor suppressed her sense of relief as she yelled, "JARVIS! Get ready to suit up!"

Her AI's calm voice immediately replied, "Ready when you are, Miss."

Taylor quickly undressed and moved to the location that would allow JARVIS to armor her. A blizzard of devices rose around her as she stepped into the large boots that were the foundation of this particular armor. Then devices fastened around her hips and waist. Taylor held out her arms and they were quickly surrounded by another maelstrom of metal. Screws torqued down with immense force as piece after piece covered her. Until Taylor Hebert was gone, and all that stood where she'd been was an immense armored figure, colored black and silver.

A quick thought and the skylight at the top of her lab opened. Taylor rose on pillars of force from her boots and hands. Then she was through the opening and leaving, followed by eight flattened spheroids of metal and one metallic cube.

Eight was all of the drones she'd managed to build. There were four more nearly finished in her lab's automated manufacturing facility, but they'd do her no good incomplete. No, Taylor would have to make do with what she'd managed to complete. Tonight was do or die.

"Miss, we are being tracked by several weapons systems originating in the building ahead of us."

Taylor had already seen them. "Relax, JARVIS. That's just the Protectorate's automated defenses. So long as we land in the designated spot, they won't attack." Plus, even if they did, Taylor wasn't particularly worried about them damaging her armor through its forcefields. Not that they were going to, she thought, noting the small group already gathering in front of the building.

Taylor landed rather more heavily than she'd intended in front of the Protectorate HQ. Her drones bobbing above her head, she winced at the sound of concrete shattering. Superimposed upon her HUD were the names of each of the people present. Even without that reminder, Taylor recognized several of the local Protectorate members, including Armsmaster in his familiar dark blue and silver armor and Miss Militia dressed in her modified military uniform. Others were less familiar and the HUD definitely helped to at least initially identify them. The figure labeled as Panacea wore enveloping white robes, and Taylor wouldn't have recognized her. However, she did know Panacea was a member of New Wave and an amazing healer.

The other Protectorate present and identified on Taylor's HUD were Assault, Battery, Velocity, and Dauntless. Taylor also noted the presence of two more female members of New Wave, Brandish and Lady Photon. She did a quick scan to identify any devices they carried as well as to get a sense of the abilities they brought to the table, making a mental note to do a follow up with JARVIS when time allowed.

Everyone had looked at Taylor when she touched down in front of them and a couple had taken a step back at the loud crack of her landing. Taylor had barely settled into place when Armsmaster was in front of her, barking out, "Who are you? Where are you from? What is your specialty?"

Taylor's voice was that of a flat, synthesized male as she responded, "Iron Man. Out west. Tinker." She saw him take that in and waited for a response.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Armsmaster stood, waiting to see if anyone else would show, although he rather doubted it. The Simurgh was more of a specialist fight than most Endbringers, and if you didn't have flight, or another Mover ability, coupled with some form of energy projection, there was little point in trying to help. Of course, Alexandria was an obvious exception to the energy projection rule. Unfortunately, many of the members of his team who were coming along, such as Velocity, Assault, and Battery, would only be useful in helping to move civilians away from the fight. Miss Militia, at least, was effective from a great distance with her different weapons. Dauntless might even be of help, he thought, suppressing any emotional connotations associated with _that _name.

Armsmaster, himself, would be staying here to help keep an eye on his city as he would be of minimal help in this kind of battle. He would be joined here by Triumph and the Wards. In some ways, he wished he could keep other members of his team from going although he didn't really fear a breach of the truce by any of his city's villains. He wasn't even sure why he felt this way. Armsmaster frowned at the possibility it was pettiness on his part that was the driving force for his reluctance to send them. Finally, he put the entire idea firmly from his mind to concentrate on what was happening around him.

He noted the presence of members of New Wave for the record. Truthfully, Armsmaster was happier to see Brandish and Lady Photon as they could at least affect the Simurgh. He wished that more of their children had decided to come along, but then again, he could understand not wanting to take a chance with their safety as any overstay would result in their deaths. Likely New Wave's leaders had decided they couldn't make enough of a difference to risk them. At least Panacea was coming, but as a noncombatant, she would stay at the back where she was best suited and only work on healing the wounded.

Armsmaster was just about to make the call for a teleporter to come get them when he saw someone he didn't recognize drop out of the sky to land with the resounding crack of shattering concrete. Irritated at the destruction of Protectorate property, he was stepping forward even as the sheer presence of the other figure registered.

The new addition wore a seven and a half foot tall suit of menacing black armor with silver accents and glowing red eyes. Despite having a not dissimilar color scheme to his own armor, its appearance was completely different. For one thing, the other's armor was a sealed system giving no clues to its pilot's identity. For another, it was obviously loaded with different types of energy weapons based what appeared to be projectors on its hands, forearms, and chest. The armor even _looked_ virtually impregnable. Armsmaster took another look, seeing deeper into the armor's systems and was appalled.

Everywhere he analyzed there was the possibility of miniaturization. But to his surprise, Armsmaster couldn't understand what kind, as much of its base technology was different from anything he'd ever encountered before. From what he could understand, nothing appeared to be crudely built in the least. Instead, Armsmaster saw unknown circuits and power leads, immensely robust, whose function mystified him. Some were clearly for weapons, but why were they so potent? Then he took a quick reading with his staff, and the power generation revealed brought both understanding and alarm. Some power plant within the figure's armor was generating at least thirty gigajoules per second, well beyond any powered armor he'd ever encountered before. Just trying to get a more exact reading nearly damaged his staff's sensor suite. Almost absently, he noted a future way to decrease its sensitivity by several different degrees of magnitude upon demand.

Still, the fact that he needed to design such a system further fed Armsmaster's alarm. It was just one of the reasons he snapped out his questions. He wasn't particularly pleased by the answers provided by the figure's clearly synthesized voice. It didn't help that the cold metallic voice only added to the menace projected by this... Iron Man.

Armsmaster was not aware of any Tinkers with that designation. A quick glance at Miss Militia indicated that she was just as mystified as he was. Trying to reign back his emotions, he asked, "What are your armor's capabilities?"

Armsmaster was aware that he was skirting dangerously close to the edge of invading another cape's privacy, but felt like he needed to at least have some understanding of what the other was capable of as the head of the Brockton Bay Protectorate. Still, he was relieved when the figure actually answered. "Powered flight. Forcefield projection. Particle cannons. Repulsors. A few other odds and ends." The armored figure gestured vaguely towards the floating drones above it.

Unfortunately, once the other responded, Armsmaster found his relief to be short-lived. Particle cannons? With that power output? And what the Hell were repulsors? Plus, he wanted to know exactly what those drones were. Then he became aware that the other hadn't finished speaking. "Oh, and this."

With that last, the figure stepped up to a large metal box floating behind him. Opening a small door in one side of it, he pulled out a metal armband and tossed it to Armsmaster, who caught it reflexively. "Psionic inhibitor. Should be effective in preventing the Simurgh's scream from affecting you, although I haven't been able to test it outside of the lab."

From next to him, Armsmaster heard Assault speak, "Seriously? Because that would be one hell of a tactical advantage if we don't have to worry about that scream."

Armsmaster quickly took charge. "Assault, we have no evidence the device even works. It has not been tested or cleared by the PRT."

If Iron Man was offended by his words, it wasn't evidenced by his body language. He merely said, "If anyone wants one, come see me. I have enough to equip eighty capes."

Armsmaster stood there, growing angry, as everyone there took advantage of the offered devices. He took a dubious look at the device in his hands, but could not discern its function, merely that it was _wonderfully_ miniaturized and efficient, a much less brute force concept than its inventor's armor. He made a note to contact Dragon ASAP in order to have her analyze the item's purpose. Only then would he considering trying it out.

Deciding that they were as ready as they were going to get, Armsmaster made a quick call. It took only a moment before he received an answer: pick up in four minutes. While he was waiting, he listened to the conversations around him.

"-want you to take any chances, puppy. Rescue only, got it?"

"Me take chances? Why you male, chauvinist pig, I'm not the one who-"

"-don't know if I can damage it. I mean, I have my Arclance, but still I'm just not sure."

"You have more of a chance than I do, despite my gu-"

"-taking care of the wounded, but please, mom, don't take any chances!"

"Panacea, stick to code names while we're out in costume. I know I've sa-"

Then he zeroed in one conversation.

"-only the three of you are here out of all the members in your group. I was curious why."

"Brandish and I agreed that the others were too vulnerable against the Simurgh. Her telekinesis is extremely powerful. While we think we can handle it..."

"You don't know if the others could. If they could be kept safe, through some means, there would be a lot less to worry about."

"Maybe. But as things stand, unless Brockton Bay is getting hit, our kids are not getting involved in an Endbringer fight."

"I completely understand."

Armsmaster stood still, even as he considered the possibilities. Now he wished he'd heard the entire conversation. And recorded it for later playback and analysis. Because unless he was extremely mistaken, he believed he'd just heard the tentative beginnings of a recruitment attempt.

Then The Dart was in front of them, and frantically gesturing for everyone to gather close. Armsmaster watched through narrowed eyes as Iron Man with his impossible armor and those drones clustered closely with the others. Then they were gone, next stop Canberra, Australia.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

**AN:** Next chapter, all hell breaks loose.


	15. Chapter Fifteen—Journeying Through Abadd

**Chapter Fifteen—Journeying Through Abaddon**

**AN:** I made a few changes to the previous chapter shortly after I posted it, including one fairly significant one, so I recommend going back and rereading that first. Once you're done, feel free to read on.

I also wanted to thank everyone for the great feedback I've received for this story. I can't tell you how beneficial it's been to hear your suggestions and criticisms. Please continue to let me know where I'm doing well as well as where I'm screwing the pooch. Thanks!

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

The first thing Taylor noticed when she almost slid out of the teleporter's arc was the controlled chaos around her. Controlled, because there were people in charge providing direction. Chaos, because despite that direction, several people were moving around in seemingly random directions.

They were located in a lightly wooded area, likely a park, four miles to the south of the downtown area. Taylor was able to ascertain that by pinging a satellite, since she couldn't see the downtown area from their base camp, the buildings being much too small to show at this distance. Canberra, despite its population, was anything but the typical city with its planned set up from the beginning of its existence. That much, at least, Taylor had absorbed from JARVIS' brief.

Instead of night, it now late afternoon, with the bright sun starting to form lengthening shadows. It was also extremely hot, based upon her armor's sensors, a scorching thirty-eight degrees Celsius in the shade.

It was shortly after taking in all of her surroundings that Taylor noticed the fear. There was a feeling of almost panic in the air.

The look of strain on the visible portions of most of the faces around her was something that Taylor's memories recognized. It was a mix of stark terror that you were going to die, along with worry that when you did, it would be in vain. There was also that little bit of fear of the unknown. All of the signs around her pointed to the Simurgh's presence. It was, after all, the most feared of all the Endbringers.

Taylor's armor's cameras panned over the proceedings, zooming in occasionally as something caught her attention. Here, a group of eight heroes were launching into the sky, likely off to engage the Simurgh. There, another group streamed back in, injured and bleeding, their very body language reflecting how badly they'd been beaten. Heads of various capes hung down as they trudged along. As Taylor tried to make sense of everything, her HUD briefly overwhelmed her with names and histories to the point the exterior view was almost completely hidden by various sized fonts.

Whew. Inside her helmet, Taylor blinked rapidly, then said, "JARVIS, from now on, only tag new capes with names, and then only for ten seconds. Also, no more than ten percent of the screen should be used at any one point. Prioritize by threat status. Otherwise, it's too distracting."

"I will take care of it, Miss." Seconds later, everything cleared off, with only the occasional tag sneaking in as a new Parahuman came into view.

Glancing at the impassive faces of Lady Photon and Brandish, who still stood next to her, Taylor noticed that none of the chaos surrounding them seemed to come as a surprise. Both of the women's faces were carved in stone, as all emotion was suppressed. Finally, after a long moment, they moved. Taylor slowly followed, falling behind slightly, as they made their way over to a tall armored figure carrying an enormous weapon resembling the bastard child of a cannon and sword. Her HUD labeled him as Chevalier, a name she recognized as head of the Protectorate branch in Philadelphia. Which made his weapon the rather infamous Cannonblade. She noticed that the other Protectorate capes they'd arrived with were already scurrying off. While she watched, Chevalier just finished waving Panacea towards a large tent with a red cross on it.

As she caught up, Taylor heard the tail end of a question. "...think that we are best used."

"I want the two of you joining D Wave to make up for casualties there. I already sent off the others in your group to work on civilian rescue or healing. Here's your armbands. Remember your exposure. Good luck."

"Thanks."

Chevalier turned towards Taylor, taking her in for the first time. His voice was curt as he asked, "Name and affiliation?"

"Iron Man. Rogue Tinker."

Taylor saw his eyes flick over her armor from under his helm. It made her glad that he couldn't see her own in return. "I'm not familiar with that name. Where are you out of?"

Taylor answered honestly. "I'd rather not say."

His tone was clipped as he said, "Fine. What are your abilities? I take it that your armor is functional? Does it include flight? Also, please give me an preliminary weapons load out so I can figure out where to slot you."

"My armor includes faster than sound flight, coupled with multiple energy weapons, including high energy particle cannons and repulsors." Taylor decided that he didn't need to know the specifics of the repulsors or her other weapons, and continued, "My armor is protected by both its superalloy chassis, as well as strong forcefields, which I can also project. My drones are a mix of forcefield and weapons platforms."

"Is this your first Endbringer fight? Do you think you can you take a direct hit from the Simurgh, Iron Man?"

Taylor swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "Yes and yes."

Chevalier nodded. "Fine. As soon as I assign you a wave, you'll join them for a brief on the Simurgh. It'll cover how best to combat her, as well as any perceived goals she appears to have and if we need to thwart those."

"I understand."

"Is there anything else you need to tell me before assignment?"

Taylor stepped up to the floating metal cube that acted as both a storage unit for the psionic dampeners, as well as armored transport for a set of servers for JARVIS. She opened the drawer and pulled one out, tossing it to Chevalier. "Yes, I made these. They're psionic dampeners. Should be effective for at least some time against the Simurgh. They completely block telepathy, as well as other forms of psychic attacks. Large scale macro-telekinesis will likely destroy them. Until then, they should work."

There was a sense of suppressed excitement in Chevalier's voice as he asked, "How many do you have with you?"

"I made eighty, but with the ones I've already given out, I have seventy-two left. Do you want me to leave them with you?"

"Yes. I'll take care of dispensing them as waves come back in." Chevalier picked up an armband from the table beside him and started to hand it to Taylor. He stopped when it became clear that there was no way it would go over her suit's arm. "Policy is that you wear one of these so that if you are in the area affected by the Simurgh's Scream too long, it can be detonated to prevent you from turning on us. It's also a communication device to let you stay in touch with everyone else involved in the fight."

Taylor took the device from his hand. Turning off her external speakers, she said, "JARVIS, analyze and decode the frequency this is on and patch us in."

"Analyzed and decoded, Miss. Accessed using encrypted radio protocol Omega One."

"Thank you, JARVIS." To Chevalier, Taylor said, "I have patched into the armband's frequency and will be in contact with everyone." She handed him back the armband, wondering how they were going to handle the need to possibly eliminate her.

Chevalier nodded. He also picked up a different device from the table, a flat rounded disc. "Turn around, please."

"What is that?"

"It serves the same purpose as the armband in dealing with Parahumans who have been exposed too long to the Simurgh's scream. It's designed for armored capes and attaches through a combination of magnetics and electrostatic bonding."

Taylor really didn't want what amounted to a limpet mine attached to her, but since she was the one who had wanted to be here, didn't feel like she had a choice. "Fine."

Chevalier attached it high on her back just below her head. Once it was clinging to Taylor's armor, he said, "G Wave is just forming up. It's composed of mostly first timers as well. You'll see a flag with the letter about seventy-five yards due north. Once you're there, your group will head in for briefing shortly after. Understood?"

"Understood."

With that, Taylor set out to find her group, or wave. On the way, she said, "JARVIS, make sure to disable that damn mine that's attached to my armor. I'm rather fond of my head and would rather keep it."

"Already done, Miss. I've also taken the liberty to spoof the electronic monitoring to believe it is still operational."

"Excellent, JARVIS. What would I do without you?"

JARVIS' tone was supremely dry as he replied, "We'll never know."

Taylor noticed the large white flag with the letter G in red above it. Clustered around beneath the flag were several Parahumans, including another figure in powered armor, although it was substantially smaller and appeared more lightly armed and armored than her own. As she walked up, Taylor said, "I'm Iron Man, here to join G Wave."

The armored cape laughed, but Taylor could hear the strain in his voice as he spoke, "Nice going, mate. I'm Adamant. Hero." He gestured towards the others. "That's Faust, Majestic, Ronin, Billabong, and Feral. We were just getting acquainted. What's your deal, mate?" His accent was definitely Australian. It made sense that since it was their country that was being attacked, a majority of the capes here would be natives.

Taylor kept her words simple as she explained, "I'm a Tinker. Rogue. Besides the armor, I'm also protected by forcefields. I have several energy weapons for engaging at a distance. I also brought the drones behind me. The ones with the one large indention that looks like an eye are weapon platforms, firing a particle beam weapon. The ones with the four equally spaced triangular indentions are forcefield drones. You can use them for protection against the Simurgh while you wait to launch your attack. Just remember to stay away from the edges of the forcefields, which are colored blue for visibility. They are _very_ sharp."

One of male capes whistled. "Damn. I'll be sure to avoid being killed by my own side then." The man's accent was very Australian, almost exaggeratedly so. He also sounded cocky as he spoke, "Anyway, I'm Faust. _Not_ a hero. As you can see, I dress the part." Faust gestured at his all black outfit, which looked almost like a man's suit, if it came complete with a flowing black cape. He wore big dark goggles covering his eyes, as likely to protect his identity as it was to guard against the wind while flying. Taylor did notice that his suit showed a lot of areas of body armor when she scanned him, so he wasn't completely without protection. "I fly. And summon these big red flying demons to fight for me. They're pretty nasty, but I don't know if they can take on an Endbringer."

Next was a tall female cape dressed in Japanese-style Samurai armor with a metal helm concealing her identity. "I'm Ronin. Rogue. I can form an energy sword that can cut through most objects, as well as throw balls of the same energy that explode. I fly, too."

Taylor noticed that Ronin's armor was mostly decorative and likely provided less protection than Faust's. She asked, "How far can you throw them?"

There was a nervous energy to Ronin as she shuffled her feet before answering, "About a hundred feet."

That took her into almost pointblank territory with the Simurgh, a dangerous place to be. But Taylor stayed silent, deciding to wait to make any objections until she heard the rest of her group's abilities.

"I'm Majestic. Ahh... hero. I'm a mover two, flying that is, plus I have a brute rating of three. I also shoot beams of green energy out of my eyes that burn extremely hot, giving me a Blaster rating of four." Majestic, who also spoke with an Australian accent, wore a bright red uniform that showed his musculature off, as well as a black half-mask that covered his upper face, while leaving his square jaw and blonde hair uncovered. His hair was long, well past shoulder-length, and kept swept back from his face by his mask.

Unlike any of the others, Majestic's voice showed an intense sense of excitement rather than fear. Taylor also noticed how the crimson-themed cape seemed to almost pose, as if trying to show himself off to the others around him. The other homegrown capes didn't seem that impressed with him. She'd keep an eye out for him.

"Billabong, here. Rogue. I control water. I can fly on a hardened disc of water, as well as shoot out blades of it. If I'm near a large body of water, I can make a water twister that can do a lot of damage. Without water nearby, I only have what I bring with me in my tanks." Billabong, another Australian cape, carried a roughly ten gallon metal tank on his back, apparently full of water. He was dressed in a blue and white bodystocking with a utility belt around his waist. His matching mask covered most of his head with holes for his eyes, nose, and mouth. To Taylor's dismay, he didn't appear to have any armor beyond Kevlar protecting his chest and back.

"I'm Feral. Villain. I can fly. Rated Mover none-of-your-business. I'm also a Shaker. I create these fields of warped space where the physical laws aren't... normal. I can toss them, see? As some of you already know." The cape who spoke, was a woman, and didn't resemble her name in the least. With a cape name like Feral, Taylor would have thought Brute, but instead, the woman was short, blonde, and delicate, and wore a costume of tye-dyed cloth, with various beaded accouterments covering her, including a headband and mask. She looked more like a hippie than anything else. A completely unarmored hippie, that is.

Adamant nodded. "Yeah, we know, Feral. For now, we're on the same side. Least till we deal with this dunny rat. I'll finish up things. Adamant here. Her- sorry, I already said that, didn't I? I'm a member of a team out of Perth. I'm a Tinker, rated a three. I specialize in lift systems with an emphasis on smaller payloads. That's how my armor works. I'm rated a Mover four because with my armor on, I'm quick. I also have miniature explosive rockets that I can use to attack with. Nasty buggers. Might just be bities, though, to an Endbringer. So, everyone have a good idea of what this wave can do?"

There were assorted nods of assent along with a smattering of "Aye" and "No worries" statements. Adamant said, "Then, let's head in for briefing. I want to be ready when it's our turn to head in."

Taylor walked with the others towards another large tent, her thoughts in turmoil. Moving inside, she noted the person at the front of the tent was another cape she'd never seen before. Her HUD identified the person as Revel, a Protectorate member out of Chicago. She was clearly Japanese, with a painted mask covering her lower face. On a table next to her rested a massive lantern on a stick. Under a crimson kimono, Revel wore a white skin-tight outfit with straps at the shoulders, the legs ending mid-thigh. Without the white covering, the outfit would have been scandalous. With it, she had a degree of modesty, only her shoulders left bare.

Revel spoke, "Gather around. I'm Revel, a member of the Protectorate. I'm here to brief you on the Simurgh. You'll be launching in just a few minutes."

She walked over to a large white board at the front and began pointing at different things. "First, understand that we're not fighting Behemoth or Leviathan. The Simurgh is far, far _worse_."

"While physically not as imposing, she is nearly their equal, strength-wise. She prefers not to engage in hand to hand, instead employing an intense form of telekinesis to strike you. She can knock you down, or hit you with objects. She keeps a cloud of debris hovering around herself that she can employ for this purpose. Remember, her telekinesis is strong enough to lift _buildings_."

"One of her other primary powers involves her Scream. We've never found a way to block it, although we'll be fitting you with untested devices that might work before you set out. Combat ops are scheduled in blocks of five minutes. If your group can't make it the full five, try to last at least half that before disengaging. When you get back here, anyone who needs it seek healing and ready yourself for the next wave. We'll also being combining waves based upon casualties, so you may end up fighting alongside someone different before the end. So _communicate_."

"Remember, throughout each wave of the fight, your total exposure to the Simurgh's scream is only thirty-six minutes. Before that, you _must_ get out. Your armband keeps a running tally on your exposure. It will also alert you at the point that you only have five minutes to get out of her range, which is approximately one mile in radius, and again when you only have one minute. Shortly after the thirty-six minute deadline, your armband will alarm, then detonate, terminating you."

Revel looked at each of them, to further emphasize what she was saying. After a moment, she continued, "That is the worst part of what you'll face. But I do need to warn you of another ability she possesses. We believe she can access Thinker and Tinker powers in her vicinity. Since she first demonstrated this ability back in 2009, she has used it twice since to build devices that have a variety of purposes, none of them beneficial. While she is _always_ your primary target, any devices she is working on are a high priority secondary target."

"So anyone who finds out they can't hurt her, attack any Tinker devices she's working on. If nothing else, it provides a distraction, giving her more targets to worry about. Her precognition makes the Simurgh, herself, a difficult target at best."

Taylor asked, "Is she building something right now?"

That earned her a hard look. "Yes, she's centered over the Australian Academy of Science. It's next to a building called the Shine Dome, which looks... _looked_ like a flying saucer cut in half. Apparently there were Tinkers working inside and underneath the building in protected bunkers. Some, but not all, have been evacuated. We do not have an up to date list of what the Tinkers were specializing in, so be prepared for anything."

"Remember, hit hard and fast. Stay with your wave and try to get everyone out. If you can't help someone else, get yourself out. Regroup back here for another attempt. Stay in communications and let us know if something is working, or not. If you get routed early, communicate that, and we'll get the next wave on her ahead of schedule. Any questions?"

Taylor was sure that she should have a million. But she'd read every possible scrap of information that JARVIS had managed to scrounge up on the Simurgh. Nothing from the briefing had been really new, with the exception of the target.

It made sense, however, if the Simurgh had deemed some Tinker here inimical to its plans. Additionally, a successful strike here would severely damage the Australian capital city and its economy, while dealing a strong blow to morale throughout the nation. She would also create time bombs of an unknown number of citizens, something that could only be prevented by killing or isolating them all. It would be many months before any of the survivors would be able to leave and stop being a drain on their fellow citizens.

Grudgingly, Taylor had to give the Simurgh her due. It was a nasty and effective strategy. Shortly, she would find out if the Simurgh's tactics were just as good. For now, she had to wait.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

As soon as the massively armored cape moved away, Chevalier hit his communicator. "Dragon, please ask Alexandria to come to the staging area immediately. I have something I need her to test for me."

"Chevalier, Alexandria is in the middle of aiding C Wave to disengage. As soon as she's done, I'll request she swing by. What is happening on your end?"

"A Tinker by the name of Iron Man dropped off a just over seventy armbands that he says will block the Simurgh's Scream. Some kind of psionic dampener, I believe he called it. Whether they'll work or not is still up in the air. I need Alexandria to test them before hitting her exposure limit." Damn, but he was hoping the things worked. It would make a fucked up situation a lot safer and maybe they wouldn't lose anymore good capes to their own side.

"I understand. Armsmaster has already sent me a communique regarding the devices. He was unable to ascertain if the one he has in his possession works, or anything else about it. The device fused solid when he attempted a deep examination using a Boyd-Yukawa Scanner he had in his lab. It's just a lump of melted circuitry right now."

Chevalier mulled that over. A Tinker who was able to protect his tech. And who also felt the need to. Interesting. "Well, let's not destroy any more of them until we find out if they work."

"Understood. Dragon out."

Chevalier took one more look at the devices, then grabbed a colorfully dressed cape who was wandering by, apparently with nothing to do. "Take these to the staging area. Wait there for Alexandria. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

The other's voice, with its strong Australian accent, was full of gratitude at having something to do. Too many of the native capes that had shown up were completely unsuited to fighting the Simurgh and had to be kept back. The forced inactivity was eating at many of them. Helpless to protect their country, many of them had helped earlier with rescuing civilians, but that had finished up almost a few minutes ago. Now they were just left to wait.

Chevalier knew the feeling as it applied to himself as well. There was only one more group coming in, then he would be left with nothing to do. Oh, nominally he'd head over to Operations and monitor the waves going in and coming back, trying to help with strategy. Unfortunately, the harsh reality was that the Thinkers already there were far more qualified to deal with the threat than he was.

Still, he would try his damnedest to find any holes in their strategy and tactics, Chevalier thought. It was all he could do.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Trish stared at the monitor, as if trying to make it form a picture. "JARVIS, why isn't there a signal?"

A moment later, his cultured voice answered, "Miss Hebert has requested I not turn it on early so as to avoid causing undue stress to your ability. This is per the earlier discussion the two of you had, Miss Rogers, where you agreed to it."

"Damn it!"

"Language." The admonishment came from the figure sitting next to her.

Trish glanced over at Danny, who looked as worried as she felt. "I wish Taylor would stop trying to do what's best for everyone else. She needs to let me help her, Danny."

"What do you think you'll be able to figure out before you see the Simurgh? Seeing things now could put a lot of pressure on you and you can't take another of those tablets anytime soon."

Trish could have said that she was crucial to Taylor's survival, or used any of a hundred strategies to win any argument with Danny. She didn't because not only would it serve no real purpose, it would devastate a man who was slowly coming to feel like a father to her. It was odd to feel so protective of people. Then again, maybe it was because they were protective of her.

Certainly Danny was. Just as he also wanted to protect Taylor. He just needed to understand that you can't always protect your kids. Besides, Trish wasn't the one in danger. That would be Taylor, who was being a stubborn fool.

"Tattletale."

"Tay- Iron Man, what's going on? I need a feed right now!"

"Feed incoming. I also have you wired into the communication net. They're testing my psionic dampener. They're sending it in with Alexandria."

Trish nodded, despite the fact that Taylor wasn't there to see. "I take it that you want me to observe and see if I can ascertain any weaknesses? Audio from their communications net won't be the most effective with my power."

"Any information you can get might be helpful."

"Fine. I'll do my best. What I really need, though, is video. I'll do better once you engage."

"Understood. Iron Man out."

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Alexandria gave a dubious look at the armband decorating her left arm. Her right still sported her Dragon-made communication armband, although hers was without the explosives placed in the others since no amount of ordinary explosives would be enough to kill her. Instead, Alexandria made sure to carefully monitory her exposure so that the Scream didn't scramble her mind, turning her into a time bomb aimed at humanity. The last thing the world needed was a member of the Triumvirate going bad.

As she neared the Simurgh, Alexandria spoke into her communicator. "Tell them that the new armbands work. I'm within her range and I'm not hearing the Simurgh's scream."

It was true. She was experiencing blessed silence for the first time ever in a fight against the Simurgh. Alexandria said a silent thank you to whoever had build the armband that she currently wore.

With that, she rocketed towards the tall white winged figure surrounded by a revolving disc of debris and other items. Just as she was getting close enough to strike, she was knocked off course by a large piece of concrete and steel, that Alexandria recognized as part of the dome of the building beneath them.

It struck with enough force to hammer even her aside, and Alexandria struck the ground, digging a trench through more than a hundred feet of earth and concrete before she stopped. Staggering to her feet, she leaped skyward and immediately headed straight at the Simurgh a second time.

This time, she was hit by debris from two directions, as well as buffeted by a huge wave of telekinetic force. That's when it happened. Instead of silence, the Simurgh's scream was back and as bad as ever, tearing into Alexandria's mind. Was it all a trap? Had the Simurgh known all along how to destroy the device?

Alexandria was hammered into the earth again. Grunting with effort, she struggled to get up. Then there was one huge rock after another crushing her into the earth. As strong as she was, the Simurgh was stronger.

Desperately, she tried to break loose, but the weight of the rocks over her was reinforced by the Simurgh's will. Alexandria struggled to reach her communicator, trying to let her teammates know what was happening. But she couldn't get her hand around to her armband to press the button for communications.

Time passed, several minutes at least. Alexandria heard fighting happening above her, then it stopped. Air was starting to become a problem as more and more debris was piled upon her. Then there was a light so bright she could see it through the cracks in the rocks. And she was free.

Alexandria blasted through the rocks covering her, before falling to the ground, panting desperately. She choked slightly at the thick smoke that surrounded her. Out of the corner of her eyes, Alexandria saw fires burning. What the hell was going on?

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor watched her fellow capes as they stood around and chatted. She'd been waiting for someone to take charge and plan the fight, but so far, no one had stepped up. She could certainly do it, but she had zero credibility with these Australian capes. So if Taylor wanted to take charge, she was going to have to put on a show.

She quickly analyzed the strengths and weaknesses of by the capes before her. Then she spoke, "JARVIS, who do you think is the best bet out of the group to make a point with?" Taylor had already decided who to make an example of, but she wanted confirmation.

"That would be Majesty, Miss. He's the obvious weak link here." JARVIS might as well have been talking about recipes for crumpets instead of possibly humiliating someone from his tone.

Taylor muttered, "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Taking a deep breath, Taylor began her takeover of the group.

"We need a plan when we face the Simurgh." Taylor's stark statement seemed to almost echo through the space as her fellow capes turned towards her.

Adamant asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, who here actually believes they can hurt the Simurgh. I mean, actually damage her?"

For a moment, all of the capes stood still, then slowly Majestic raised his hand. Taylor nodded. "Fine. Use your energy blast on me, since it's your strongest ability. I'll gauge it."

It was Adamant who protested. "NO! He could injure or kill you! We're here to fight the Simurgh, not each other!"

Taylor was implacable was she stated, "We can't fight anyone if we don't know each other's capabilities. The rest of you have indicated that you cannot hurt the Simurgh. At least you do not believe you can. I _know_ I can. Majestic also believes he can. I want to see it. Don't worry, Adamant, he won't hurt me."

Adamant seemed to wilt. "I still don't think is a good idea."

Taylor moved over so that there was nothing behind her but trees. She changed her armor's forcefield wavelength so that it absorbed rather dispersed energy. It wasn't a setting she'd use against a truly powerful foe, as it made the field vulnerable to blow through if the attack was intense enough, but against what she expected, it should be enough.

"Fire!"

Majestic hesitated a moment, then bright green beams of light erupted from his eyes, hammering into her armor's forcefield. Staring at the energy readings from them, Taylor almost despaired. They were even weaker than she'd feared, nothing like the intense cutting beams she'd hoped for. Majestic's green beams wouldn't even have gravely damaged her armor without its forcefield protection, as its hyper efficient thermocouples converted heat into usable energy.

She let him fire a moment longer, then waved for him to stop. "Was that the best that you can do?"

Majestic appeared almost petulant as he nodded. "I gave it my all."

"The problem is that your all won't even scratch the Simurgh's feathers. We're going to need a lot more that that to have any significance in this fight." Taylor watched as Majesty slinked to the back of the group, clearly upset. Several of the others looked thoughtful.

"You know, you talk big, but I never even heard of you before today. Why don't you prove something before you put everyone else down." It was Faust who spoke, his expression calculating.

It hadn't been unexpected that someone else would challenge her. Now it was time to drive home her superiority. "Fine. Iron Man to Operations, test firing of energy beam in staging area."

A moment later, a voice over her communications net answered, "Ops to Iron Man, aim your fire straight up. Be done in two minutes."

"Understood. Iron Man out."

Taylor stayed where was since she was already separate from the group by sufficient distance. Pointing her right arm straight up, she fired her particle beam cannon, using just its normal output energy of nine gigajoules.

A second later, a brilliant white beam, inches in diameter, erupted from her arm straight up. From first hand experience, Taylor knew it was bright enough to leave purple afterimages dancing on a person's retinas. The cracking sound it made was loud in the sudden silence around them. She could see the thermal bloom wash over her teammates, stirring their clothing, as they stared back at her.

Taylor turned to Faust and asked, "Satisfied?"

The other, whose exposed skin was suddenly pale, nodded jerkily. Majestic looked stunned by what he had just witnessed. Taylor explained something she'd been thinking about, "Look, I think they try to include a heavy hitter in each group. I'm a relative unknown, but my armor looks nasty and its energy output is high for anyone with sensors capable of picking it up. So it looks like I'm the heavy hitter here."

In a cynical tone, Feral asked, "What about the rest of us?"

Looking over masked figures in front of her, Taylor explained, "I have a plan. Want to hear it?"

A chorus of relieved ayes answered her as Taylor took charge.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

There was the signal they'd been waiting for. Taylor quickly wrapped up her discussion with JARVIS.

"Keep analyzing the readings from the psionic dampeners, JARVIS. I'll talk to you more later."

"Of course, Miss."

She was staying in constant communication with JARVIS, trying to devise a solution to the failure of the psionic dampeners. The thing is, they simply weren't robust enough to survive being assaulted directly by the Simurgh. Taylor had tuned them in a way that stopped a broad range of psychic attacks. That broad tuning had allowed the Simurgh to use her telekinesis to apparently destroy several of them, starting with the one worn by Alexandria. Of course, no one had seen her since she'd flown off to confront the Simurgh a little more than ten minutes ago.

"We're up! Follow me!"

Adamant leaped skyward, as the others followed behind him, Taylor included.

The wave that was finishing as they approached, F Wave, had apparently had some success in keeping their dampeners working. Only two of their armbands had been destroyed. The others, based upon the radio traffic, were working fine.

Over her encrypted communications array, Taylor heard Tattletale speak, "Iron Man, forcefields appear to stop the effects of the Simurgh's telekinesis in destroying your psionic dampeners. Also, anyone not struck directly by her macro-level telekinesis still has a fully functional dampener." Tattletale's voice was completely analytical as she spoke, reinforcing Taylor's own views.

"Understood. Some capes have it better than others because of their own innate protections. Iron Man out."

Taylor focused her mind back on the strategy that her small group had come up with and away from the limited success of her devices. Once it had become clear that she was the most powerful cape in their group by a large factor, the others had deferred to her. There was also a sense that they were just cannon fodder to be sacrificed in the fight, although Taylor wasn't sure she was cynical enough to truly believe it. Maybe they were just that desperate.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise, that the powers that be were throwing everyone they could at the Simurgh, especially in light of the limited exposure each cape could have against her. But it actually made Taylor's job harder, as she was fairly certain none of her erstwhile team could affect her. Worse, she felt responsible for their safety, including that of the villains.

The plan they'd come up with reflected this reality. Instead of staying together, the rest of Taylor's teammates would circle around behind the Simurgh, who, for unknown reasons, was facing East. They would be protected by one of her forcefield drones and accompanied by both of the weapon drones. Taylor would circle around to in front of the Endbringer. The other forcefield drone would stay with her.

Once everyone was in position, Taylor would then attack the Simurgh, unloading everything upon her, in an effort to distract the telekinetic. As soon as she did, her group would attempt to damage whatever device she was building with the help of the two weapon drones.

Of course, JARVIS would be guiding the forcefield drones and aiming the weapons. He was innately suitable for that as he would be using the Iron Man suit's sensors to aid in his targeting. It remained to be seen whether they would have any effect through the Simurgh's precognition, as she would almost certainly see the attack coming.

That the Simurgh would see Taylor's attack as well went without saying. Still, there was a chance Taylor would get through her debris ring regardless. Tagging the Simurgh, herself, would be a different matter entirely.

Taylor had almost decided to saturate the area of with large numbers of far less intense beams, using up all of the energy that filled the immense capacitors located throughout her armor in an effort to hit the Simurgh at least once. Instead, she'd decided to direct all of that energy through just the two high energy particle cannons located in her armor's arms and her unibeam located on her breastplate.

Both particle cannons were already powered by three arc reactors apiece, which allowed them to send nearly nine gigajoules of energy out with each shot. But Taylor had had another idea when designing her armor. She was using a form of a Marx generator, a type of capacitor, although she doubted the inventor himself would recognize her adaptation, to up the energy storage capacity of her armor.

Her armor currently contained dozens of high energy Marx capacitors, each capable of storing the immense energy output from the ten arc reactors. These capacitors also allowed Taylor to fire shots with her unibeam and particle cannons much greater than their normal energy feeds allowed. Using this increased energy storage, Taylor had managed to up all of her weapons' outputs by a factor of five, at least temporarily.

So instead of those two particle streams each being powered by nine gigajoules of energy, they would each contain nearly forty-five gigajoules apiece for nearly ten seconds, as would the GRASER she would be firing from her unibeam. They would almost certainly cut through any of the debris the Simurgh was using to shield herself and her Tinker invention. Whether they would hit or damage the Endbringer herself was another matter entirely.

Taylor was getting close to her target, and upped her magnification to study the figure in front of her closely. The Simurgh appeared as a freakishly tall woman with a countless number of asymmetrical wings fanning out from her body, some fanning out from other wings. Her face was beautiful, but it was the beauty of a porcelain doll, cold and utterly still. Three times the height of a person, the Simurgh looked deceptively delicate, her wings covered in gauzy white feather that Taylor knew from her studies could score steel.

Taylor stopped, hovering less than two hundred yards from the Simurgh, who completely ignored her. Instead, she continued to work on the device in front of her as her huge debris field encircled her. The fact that she was ignored was more than a little daunting to Taylor, who had thought she'd be considered at least somewhat of a danger. Was the Simurgh_ that_ confident she couldn't hurt her?

She briefly increased her vision's magnification still further, studying the device in front of the Endbringer. It looked almost like a gun of some type, possibly a bomb-pulsed X-ray LASER. Which lends itself to the question, where was the nuclear bomb that might power it? Deciding the device might truly be dangerous, Taylor made the decision to target it was well as its inventor.

"Iron Man here. I'm in position."

"Iron Man, Adamant here. We're in position. Launch your attack when ready."

"Roger. Iron Man out."

Taylor used JARVIS alongside her own built in targeting computer to look for a thin spot in the debris field circling the Simurgh. A few seconds later, she saw a gap in the pattern. When it arrived, Taylor brought her arms up and fired both of the high energy particle weapons there as well as the GRASER in her unibeam. Three beams of ravening energy, each five seconds in duration, reached out to the Simurgh and simultaneously struck her and the device she was working.

A titanic detonation of light and debris erupted from the Simurgh's figure as the two particle beams, each so bright they stole the daylight around them, hit her squarely in the chest. The resulting gaseous cloud covered the Simurgh, shielding her from view. At the same time, the GRASER struck the device in front of her, causing it to immediately turn into a mix of burning gases and molten metals, while overloading its power source, which exploded in a glaring wave of blue-tinged light, only adding to the conflagration.

Taylor was buffeted by the resulting shock wave as well as large chunks for the Simurgh's debris field, but easily rode it out behind her armor's forcefield. She tuned out the cries of alarm from her teammates, who would have been closer still as they approached from the rear. They should have been protected by the forcefield drone, which could easily block that even much kinetic and thermal energy.

Taylor strained to see, but even her armor's enhanced vision couldn't break through the thick cloud, despite cycling through various other wavelengths. What she could see was the ground beneath the Endbringer, where the nearest buildings had been completely flattened by the blast. Currently, anything nearby that was flammable was burning. Taylor began to move forward, ready to dodge or fire again.

As she arrived at the halfway point to the Simurgh, the cloud around her began to clear. The Endbringer had wrapped her wings around herself at some point during Taylor's attack. Blackened and burnt feathers dropped away as she slowly unwrapped herself. Her torso was also blackened from the initial blasts. Two smoking craters, each more than a foot across and nearly that deep, decorated her there. Then the Simurgh _looked_ at Taylor.

For the first time since before she had attacked, Taylor felt like she had the Endbringer's complete and utter attention. Staring into the face of the terrifying being in front of her stirred her in ways that Tony's memories had never prepared her for. Taylor felt such intense fear and disgust it threatened to overwhelm her. In that moment, she _knew_ that the creature in front of her was so utterly alien that it had never been human. Taylor was on the verge of some epiphany concerning the creature when, suddenly, an urgent voice assaulted her ears and broke her concentration, "Taylor! Run! She's about to attack you! If she catches you, she'll tear you apart!"

Taylor didn't wait to figure out why Trish had made such an outlandish statement, completely contrary to the Simurgh's past actions. Instead, she instantly turned and headed out at maximum acceleration due east. Behind her, more than half the debris circling the Simurgh dropped to the ground as she followed behind Taylor just as rapidly.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Aussie slang

Bities: biting insects

Dunny rat: very cunning being

Feral (n.): a hippie

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

**AN:** Next time: Taylor finds out how it feels to be the mouse when the cat's _pissed._


	16. Chapter Sixteen—Travels Through the Coun

**Chapter Sixteen—Travels Through the Countryside**

**AN:** Okay, here it is, Taylor's first cape fight. Enjoy.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor got while the going was good. Before Trish's words had finished echoing in her mind, she was already traveling directly away at Mach four point seven, the top speed of her armor, her force fields angled for minimum air resistance. Behind her, the Simurgh followed.

Still, Taylor managed to open up a gap of nearly a thousand yards before her pursuer first matched her speed, then began to slowly creep up on her.

"JARVIS! Plot me a course that keeps me away from occupied areas. I'm going to get some altitude as well. No reason to give her access to rocks and trees to throw at me."

"Sensible." Two seconds later, he continued, "The course is on your HUD, Miss."

Taylor glanced at her HUD, quickly noting the course JARVIS had laid out for her, glowing purple. One good thing about Australia was that it was thinly populated. So long as she followed the purple line, she would avoid any population centers by at least ten miles. Decision made, Taylor took off on the new course, heading upward as well.

Within seconds, Taylor had made up nearly three thousand feet of altitude, while the Simurgh following her continued to stay low. It must be trying to gather up more ammunition for its debris cloud. Time to nix that in the bud.

"JARVIS! I need you to aim for me while I fly! I'll be firing five seconds bursts from both particle cannons."

"I am on top of it, Miss. Firing solution in ten seconds. I've also taken the liberty of taking charge of all four drones and am following you with them as quickly as possible."

Taylor didn't bother to acknowledge him, but instead, waited. It was an odd sensation as her wrists slowly adjusted without any input from herself, angling her flight at a more vertical angle. At least that was the direction she wanted to go. Taylor launched her attack as soon as the "FIRE" icon on her HUD lit up.

Incredibly, both shots scored, blasting into the Simurgh's white flesh, although the resulting craters were smaller than those from her initial salvo. Tag, you're it, Taylor thought gleefully, right before the hand of God smashed into her.

The surge of force that struck her completely shattered her force field, popping it as if it were no more substantial than a soap bubble. The force field's generator shrieked, before it burned out, the feedback shattering its linkages.

The faint smell of burning filled Taylor nose as she was sent tumbling in three dimensions, her arms and legs flailing around helplessly. She lost nearly five hundred feet of altitude before her internal gyros righted her and she was headed up and away again. Fortunately, the next force field slid into place flawlessly, allowing her to configure it for maximum speed.

"JARVIS! What the hell was that?" Taylor shouted, somehow managing to avoid vomiting despite the way her head spun and her stomach roiled.

"Miss, I cannot be certain, but I believe it was a wave of telekinetic force."

"I didn't think she was supposed to be able to do that." From everything that Taylor had read up on the Simurgh, she should not have been able to tag her from such a distance and with such force. That hit had simply blown through her force field as if it didn't exist, which didn't make sense. Based upon every bit of data Taylor had managed to get her hands on, not even Behemoth was that strong. Her force fields should have been able to withstand multiple attacks from the Simurgh. Certainly, they shouldn't have failed after just one.

Temporarily dismissing the thought, Taylor quickly checked her enemy's position, noting that the two of them were on a roughly parallel course with her about eight hundred feet above and another two thousand ahead. The Simurgh was slowly closing the distance between them, moving higher and narrowing the gap between them. Taylor quickly decided to hit the Simurgh again. Maybe she could slow the bitch down.

"Line it up, JARVIS!"

This time, Taylor was going to hit her for a full ten seconds. Might as well let the Simurgh know she'd been struck.

When the FIRE icon lit up, Taylor did the same thing with the Simurgh. Unfortunately, her shot was blocked after approximately five seconds by several large pieces of what used to be a building. The resulting explosions of dust as the concrete and steel were pulverized temporarily obscured the Simurgh's shape. It was then that Taylor found out how a golf ball felt when it was hit by a driver as she was pounded from beneath by another strike.

This time her force field didn't completely short out, but it was stuttering badly enough that Taylor went ahead and rotated the next one into place. That is, she did so once her world finally stopped spinning. Which was a good thing, as three seconds later she was just clipped by another blast of telekinetic force that knocked her off course, although this time she was at least able to avoid tumbling.

Taylor had just managed to get herself lined back up more or less on her former course, when she heard a familiar voice over her communications net. "Iron Man, Tattletale here. Listen to me! _Don't_ fire again! _The Simurgh can't see you!_"

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

"What the hell is going on?" Legend shouted his question, his voice thundering through Operations. He had just returned from a quick search for Alexandria when he'd stumbled into utter chaos. There were all kinds of rumors floating around, apparently driven by some chatter by one of the later waves who'd seen something odd happening.

Legend couldn't make heads or tails from either the chatter or the rumors so had come to Operations to try to figure things out. Only to find that things there weren't much better, as a dozen people spoke at once, all trying to get more information.

Then he spotted a familiar figure and immediately headed that way. "Chevalier! Report!"

There was a look of relief the part of the man's face Legend could see as he said, "Legend. Good to see you. Look, the only thing we've been able to figure out so far is that the Simurgh is moving. Fast. Apparently in pursuit of a cape."

The Simurgh was doing what? The behavior was to atypical that for a few seconds, Legend's brain simply couldn't process the information. Finally, he ground out, "What cape?"

Chevalier glanced at a notepad he was holding. "Some new cape called Iron Man. I don't know the why's, though."

"I have more information."

The quiet voice from behind both men made them turn around to regard its source. A female cape wearing a form fitting blue costume covered with a series of what appeared to be white clock hands pointing just shy of straight up met their gazes. Eleventh Hour continued once she appeared certain of their undivided attention, "I just finished communicating with Alexandria. She has conferred with the capes on the scene who were direct witnesses to the events that occurred. They said that this Iron Man struck the Simurgh directly with two powerful beams from directed energy weapons, likely particle cannons. They damaged her, although no one knows how badly. Another beam struck the device which she was working on, destroying it."

Hiding a sense of relief over the news of Alexandria's safety as well as the destruction of the Simurgh's device, Legend immediately questioned the validity of the data. "We've never managed to hit her so easily. How was this new cape able to? Does he have some kind of predictive software that somehow defeated her precognition? Or possibly a native ability along with his Tinker skills?"

Chevalier chipped in, "I checked Iron Man in when he arrived. His armor was cutting edge. Armsmaster alerted Dragon that the armor's energy outputs were over thirty gigajoules per second. It sounds like enough to hurt the Simurgh, but not to draw this kind of reaction. Certainly he shouldn't be able to destroy or even seriously threaten her."

"Have we communicated with Iron Man?"

Chevalier stated, "Unfortunately, he is not currently responding to attempts to communicate. Also, when I tried to ping the limpet I attached to him earlier to get his location, I couldn't locate it on the network. So it must be malfunctioning."

Eleventh Hour said, "I can't comment on the why's, so instead, I'll just tell you the facts. Fact one: Iron Man somehow managed to directly hit the Simurgh, apparently defeating her precognition. Fact two: The Simurgh reacted atypically by pursuing Iron Man, suggesting some emotional reaction. Possible a feeling of being threatened. Fact three: We have a cape that is being pursued by possibly the most dangerous Endbringer in existence. What I would suggest is that we get him some back up."

Legend grunted his agreement. He immediately started towards the exit. As soon as he cleared Ops, he lifted off, while speaking on his communicator. "Eidolon. Legend here. I am leaving in pursuit of the Simurgh. Follow with Alexandria as soon as you can. Legend out."

Once he heard the affirmative response, Legend turned to light and sped quickly towards the east.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

_A few minutes earlier..._

Tattletale watched the monitor, striving to glean information of the Endbringer pictured there as Taylor slowly approached it. She pushed her ability harder as Taylor zoomed the screen in for a closer view of the Simurgh. Finally, Tattletale began to glean some things.

She noted the cuts and abrasions covering the Simurgh's torso from which a sluggish fluid bled.

_Steady blood flow from small wounds, asynchronous movement; has blood but no comprehensive cardiac system_

_Tattletale also noticed that there was no obvious difference between how the cuts and tears were spaced. No attempt to shield any part of her anatomy, not even her head._

_No cardiac system; mouth, nose, and ears nonfunctional; nonstandard nervous system._

___Simurgh, n__onstandard cardiac, nervous systems; irregular biology. No standard organs or weak points. No brain, heart or center of operations for rest of her body._

_Irregular biology, no vulnerable organs: body divided into layers, extending down to hyperdurable core body, each layer down is slightly more than twice as durable as previous. Exterior skin is hard as aluminum alloy, but flexible, lets her move. 3% deeper in toward core of arms, legs, claws, tail, or .5% in toward core of head, trunk, neck, tissues are hard as steel. 6% in toward core of extremities or 1% toward core of main body/head, tissues strong as tungsten. 9% toward core of extremities, 1.5% toward core of main body, head, tissues strong as bor-_

_Tattletale managed to reign herself in, not wasting more time on superfluous information. She briefly surveyed the rest of the Simurgh to see if there was any other information to be gleaned._

_Feathers, superhardened crystalline material, can scratch diamond; surface surpasses __nanocrystalline diamond aggregates in hardness._

All very interesting, but nothing there that would help Taylor. Then Tattletale saw how the Simurgh reacted to Taylor as she approached. Or rather, didn't react at all, completely ignoring her.

Based upon her own knowledge of Taylor's weapons, Tattletale didn't believe that she could seriously injure the Simurgh. At least, not as configured. Still, that amount of sheer confidence was surprising. And not in line with previous data on the Simurgh.

Then Taylor fired and hit the Simurgh, utterly destroying the Tinkered weapon she was creating. Tattletale nearly screamed from the release of tension as something was finally happening. Half a minute passed without event. Then the dust began to clear and Tattletale could see how the Simurgh's attention was completely on Taylor.

It wasn't just her ability that made her yell at Taylor to run. Instead, it was some visceral sense in her hindbrain, likely left over from some reptilian ancestor. It read a predator and somehow knew that what it was going to do.

The running battle that continued over the next few minutes was terrifying. Not that Taylor appeared afraid, hitting the Simurgh twice more, although each time she drew a savage response, that left her and the view on the monitor spinning madly.

Tattletale was close. If she could just-

_Simurgh holds back in battle; fights just strong enough to cause damage and a certain number of cape deaths; in reality, much more powerful telekinetic ability. _

She shivered, but couldn't stop her analysis. That's when it hit Tattletale. The Simurgh-

_No standard vision; eyes are nonfunctional. Use of alternate form of vision to perceive surroundings_

_Cannot see Taylor, responds to her attack on same vector, extrapolated for distance, roughly five second lag involved_

_Overall pursuit based upon sheer intensity of wake created by supersonic flight; same five second lag involved_

It was then that she called Taylor. "Iron Man, Tattletale here. Listen to me! _Don't_ fire again! _The Simurgh can't see you!_"

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

"What the fuck just happened?"

Adamant heard Feral's shouted question as he squinted through eyes tearing from the sudden glare. Bright afterimages danced in his vision as he blinked away the tears.

The blast had been both deafening and bright enough to blind the unprotected. A combination of the force field drone and the Simurgh's own debris field had kept his group alive and functioning. There had been several hits against the drone's force field from pieces of that same debris field. Adamant thought those had been caused by the brilliant explosion rather than the Simurgh herself attacking.

Around him, his temporary teammates seemed to be in roughly the same boat as himself, all except Faust, whose oversized goggles seemed to have worked the best to cut the glare. Even as Adamant watched, Faust finished conjuring a fourth red flying demon, before sending them up and around the force field, then forward into battle.

Unfortunately, none of them got to see if Faust's demons would affect the Simurgh, as she suddenly took off in pursuit of Iron Man, who was heading out like a bush bash on steroids. "Where the hell is she going?" Faust asked, his tone showing utter bewilderment.

Fighting a sense of relief to still be alive when he'd been ready to die, Adamant shook his head. "I don't know. But she appears to be chasing Iron Man. We need to let someone in Operations know what's going on."

Then they all heard a voice behind them say, "I'll communicate with Operations, just as soon as one of you tells me exact what happened."

Adamant spun around in mid air, almost losing control of his armor when he saw who was speaking. Floating in front of him in her trademark black costume and cape, was Alexandria, one of the Triumvirate. He managed to stammer out, "We're G Wave. We split up to attack the Simurgh with all of us here, while our last teammate, Iron Man, hit her from the other side. The plan was for Iron Man to hit her first, then the rest of us were going to do the same. We were to focus on destroying her Tinker device."

Alexandria's mouth sat in a stern line as she listened. "I take it things didn't go as planned?"

"Iron Man shot her... actually, he blew the hell out of her. I think the Tinker device exploded from his attack as well. As soon as the air cleared, we went to attack, but the Simurgh was already leaving."

Alexandria's brow furrowed. "Leaving? Where was she going?"

"She was chasing Iron Man." Feral finally spoke, her apparent awe of running into Alexandria finally fading.

"What? The Simurgh is chasing a cape? Are you certain about what you saw?" Alexandria spoke in a forceful tone, drawing an immediate response from Adamant.

Adamant nodded vigorously. "Yes. After he attacked her, she took off after him. They both disappeared heading east."

"All right. I'll handle it from here." With that, Alexandria sped off towards their base camp.

Adamant stared off at the departing Alexandria, when the force field drone which had so adroitly shielded them, suddenly took off in the same direction as Iron Man and the Simurgh.

A few seconds later, Feral headed off after the drone. Adamant tapped his communicator to address her. "Feral, where are you going?"

"I'm going after them. Iron Man's going to have his hands full with the Simurgh. He's going to need our help."

Adamant floated in place for just a moment, thinking, before he decided to follow as well. "Wait for me." Turning to the rest of their wave, he said, "Feral and I are going after Iron Man and the Simurgh. Anyone who wants to help, follow me."

He immediately took off, not waiting to see if anyone else was joining him. Still, when he caught up to where Feral was waiting for him, Adamant gave a quick glance behind him to see that everyone except Majestic was there. It gave him a warm feeling, one that almost overpowered the fear that still lurked inside of him. He exchanged a quick grin with a slightly deranged looking Feral.

"Okay, everyone, follow me!" Taking off as quickly as the slowest cape in their wave could fly, they all headed east in pursuit of the Simurgh.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

"Tattletale, what do you mean by the Simurgh not being able to see me?" Taylor's voice was tense as she spoke. She had just passed the edge of the coast and was now out over the ocean, still heading east.

Over her internal speakers, Taylor listened to Trish's quick explanation. The jist of it was that the Simurgh didn't have eyes, and whatever sense she was using to track Taylor couldn't see her. Instead, she was responding to where she was shooting from. Apparently, she was able to track Taylor somewhat, likely from the disturbance that her supersonic flight created in the air. But only when she fired was the Simurgh able to pinpoint her location precisely enough to respond.

It was a huge tactical advantage, as was something else that her friend had just said. Her voice full of excitement, Taylor requested, "Tattletale, please confirm that five second lag."

"Five second lag confirmed, Iron Man. Keep your shots shorter than five seconds, and she'll have a hard time tracking you."

"Roger. Iron Man ou-."

"Wait. One more thing. I think the Simurgh's been holding back all this time. Not really trying in her fights against us. Parahumans, I mean. She was always capable of much more. That's what she's using against you, Iron Man. You need to avoid taking any more hits. She can destroy you. Pleas-"

Taylor interrupted her. "Understood. Iron Man out."

Taylor wondered if the same thing that made her unreadable by Trish was also protecting her from the Simurgh. It was quite a reach to come to that conclusion. Deciding to get a second opinion, Taylor said, "JARVIS, can you confirm Tattletale's theories?"

"Miss, all of the facts so far fit Tattletale's first theory. However, may I point out that we have insufficient information to be certain. I would suggest you go through a series of course changes as an experiment. As regards her second theory, the force of the Simurgh's attacks seem to suggest that the intensity of her attacks is greater than any she has been recorded using before."

Taylor muttered, "Great. Yay me." If the Simurgh was holding back against Parahumans, keeping so much of her ability in reserve for her own reasons, that was definitely a problem. The information needed to be disseminated.

JARVIS' voice was extremely dry as he said, "I would suggest you not get hit again, Miss."

Rolling her eyes, Taylor said, "Thanks, JARVIS."

Now to the test Tattletale's first theory. Taylor immediately rolled over in a fast turn to the south, simultaneously climbing another three thousand feet. Watching her rear on a split screen view over her HUD, she was rewarded by the appearance of the Simurgh following her movement approximately five seconds later.

Taylor repeated the experiment another half dozen times before heading back to her eastern course. Tattletale was right, she decided. "JARVIS, did you see that? The Simurgh really can't see me."

"It appears so, Miss. With the lag before she matches your course changes, you can now outdistance her and get clear."

For just a moment, Taylor considered doing just that. But what was to prevent the Simurgh from returning and continuing her own attack? Taylor couldn't see anything that would stop her. On the other hand, many more of those ridiculously powerful attacks and she'd be toast.

Still, Taylor couldn't leave her teammates in the lurch, temporary though they'd been. So, no to retreat. Instead, she quipped, "You want me to run away? Hell no, JARVIS. I'm going on the attack. I want you to plan a series of three second bursts. Use maximum power from the capacitor network and channel it through both the particle cannons and my hand repulsors."

JARVIS' tone was sharp as he responded, "Miss, using the hand repulsor will cause a reduction in velocity of approximately twenty-eight percent for the duration of the firing. I believe it is unwise to allow the Simurgh to close any quicker."

"JARVIS, you big scaredy-cat, it'll be fine."

JARVIS' tone had gone from dry to actually sarcastic as he said, "Yes, I believe that's what General Custer said at Little Big Horn. Famous last words. If I might make one suggestion. If the Simurgh is tracking you primarily through your attacks, I believe it would behoove you to make immediate course changes each time you fire so as to throw off any response."

Taylor silently whistled. Okay, she should have thought of that. It made complete sense to her memories. It also highlighted the difference between having the memories of combat and actually having experienced combat on a personal level.

Appreciation colored her tone as she said, "Good suggestion. Along those lines, let's set an attack cycle of every ten seconds. That should give me time to clear her response envelope. Thanks, JARVIS."

"You're quite welcome, Miss. I will have your firing solution prepared in a moment."

Taylor waited until the firing icon was lit up on her HUD, then launched her attack. As soon as the three seconds passed, she spun off in a random direction, this time heading down and north. With her current speed, Taylor traveled more than thirty-five hundred feet before the Simurgh could plan any response.

Then she fired again and again, each time taking off on a new heading. After a two dozen attacks with all four weapons, Taylor said, "Enough, JARVIS. Let's evaluate."

With that, Taylor headed north. Silently, she congratulated herself on an effective tactic. Now to see the results of the attack. Magnifying the view through her HUD, Taylor was disappointed by the lack of any real damage to the Simurgh. Although literally dozens of craters peppered her torso and her wings were battered and blackened, the Simurgh appeared relatively undamaged. Certainly, Taylor's attack hadn't slowed her down any.

Taylor was getting ready for another attack when she was again hammered aside by overwhelming force. Spinning end over end in the same direction she'd been flying, it took several seconds for Taylor to right herself and continue on. It also cost her yet another force field. Suddenly having six force fields didn't seem that redundant.

"JARVIS, what happened? How did the Simurgh hit me?"

"Miss, it appears that the Simurgh is no longer content to respond to your attacks. I would surmise that she is extrapolating your movements through your wake as Tattletale suggested. I would-"

Whatever JARVIS had been about to say was lost as Taylor was hammered yet again. The sea and sky exchanged place dozens of times over her HUD as she spun from the hit. Frantically, Taylor tried to right herself. Finally, she started to make progress. By the time Taylor was flying straight and true, she lost nearly two thousand feet of altitude and the Simurgh had closed to within five hundred yards.

Taylor could taste blood where she'd bitten her tongue. She shook her head trying to throw off the ringing in her ears. Every inch of her body hurt from being battered, even within her armor with its powerful inertial dampeners. That spoke of just how hard she'd been hit

Worse, there were two orange lights blinking on her HUD. Before she viewed the damage, Taylor took evasive action, zigzagging as randomly as possible to prevent another successful hit. Setting up a four second timer on her HUD, she made a course change every time it flashed. After five of those without another strike, Taylor began to relax.

Now to check the damage, she thought. The first light was minor, a blown relay in her capacitor system. Secondary circuits would take over its task. Taylor quickly shut it off, then dismissed the damage light. The second was far more serious. She'd lost another force field, its power relays fried by the last hit.

That left her with only one set of fully functional force fields and the one damaged force field. Not good. Not good at all.

"JARVIS, I've got a problem."

"I noticed, Miss. Might I suggest you begin to disengage before something else happens?"

Taylor bit back a pithy response. "Fine. I-"

Just then, a rattling began in her armor. Taylor struggled to maintain a straight line of flight. When she changed direction, it was all she could do not to start tumbling. As the vibration grew worse, another orange light blinked into place on her HUD. Taylor snarled, "Now what?"

JARVIS quickly responded. "Miss, there is damage to the right boot repulsor. I am reducing thrust to the left to compensate."

Slowly, the vibration grew smaller, although it was still present. Taylor also noted that her speed had reduced itself to well under Mach three. "JARVIS, is the boot repulsor repairable?"

"I'm sorry, Miss, but not in the field. We need your laboratory's manufacturing facility for this repair. I am sure that you have already noted your reduction in speed. Even with the lag that the Simurgh is experiencing in adapting to your course changes, you can no longer outrun her. I fear that you are going to have to come up with another plan to evade her."

Taylor continued on, making course corrections almost automatically, the Simurgh slowly closing the distance between them. She'd turned around and was now flying west, back towards Australia. Back towards her drones. The seed of an idea slowly germinated in her mind. Suddenly, Taylor asked, "JARVIS, how close are you and the drones from me?"

"Miss, we are currently at one hundred and fifty miles and closing. We'll intersect you in approximately four minutes and twenty-eight seconds at the current rate of closure. I need to point out that the Simurgh will be less than six hundred feet away when we arrive."

"Yeah, I noticed. Bring the drones into point blank contact range when you can. However, I want you to maintain at least a mile distance between your server and the Simurgh, understood?" The last thing Taylor wanted to do was risk JARVIS. She'd need him later for her plan to work.

"Understood, Miss. What is your plan?"

Taylor grew contemplative for just a moment before a frown furrowed her brow. After all, not even Tony Stark had managed to destroy his first suit of armor on its first deployment. She wasn't sure if that was a record she wanted to hold.

"Miss?" JARVIS' voice prompted her to action.

Suppressing a sigh of exasperation, Taylor ordered, "JARVIS, be prepared to execute Plan Gotterdamerung."

JARVIS' voice lacked any vestige of irony as he said, "Please confirm that, Miss Hebert."

"Confirm Plan Gotterdamerung. Execute on my mark."

Just as Taylor was about to speak again, she was struck by a wave of telekinetic force so intense it crushed her last set of fully functioning shields. As the world spun around her, something in her armor shorted, and the burning scent of plastic insulation dominated her sense of smell.

Taylor was just starting to right herself, when another hammer struck her, blowing out her last partial force field and striking the left side of her armor. Agonizing pain struck her. For just a moment, seductive blackness beckoned, but Taylor fought it off. It was then that a horrific sound assaulted her ears, like a thin, high scream that never stopped.

The world outside is tinted red, Taylor thought hysterically, then realized it was just a thin coating of blood over her HUD, likely from a bloody nose. With that damn sound tearing at her mind, she could barely think. Sluggishly, she tried to right her armor, wincing at the pain of what felt like broken ribs. Then again, she'd know how that felt, remembering a time that had happened a few years ago.

As she struggled with the pain, Taylor suddenly realized that her repulsors weren't responding. _Nothing_ was responding. Then her HUD went black. As the Simurgh's Scream echoed in her head, Taylor, in a dead suit of armor, tumbled towards the water, six thousand feet below.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Australian slang

Bush bash: long competitive motorcar race through the bush

**AN: ****Sorry for the cliffie, but I ran out of juice, so decided to stop here. Next time: Agonizing death (joking).**


End file.
